


When You Wish Upon A Star: Steve’s POV

by jaybird6232



Series: Dreams Really Do Come True [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Disney, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Artist Steve Rogers, Bottom Steve Rogers, Brock Rumlow is a fucking piece of dog shit, Brock Rumlow tries to hit on Steve romantically, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes records everything because he’s a sappy lil’ shit, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, But Bucky shuts that shit DOWN, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Time In A Plane, First Trip To Disneyland, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Go the fuck away Brock, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mechanic Bucky Barnes, Metal Arm Kink, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Oblivious Bucky Barnes, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Other, POV Steve Rogers, Pilot James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Kissing, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sharing a Bed, Steve Rogers Feels, Top Bucky Barnes, oblivious idiots, platonic handholding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-09-21 07:21:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9537695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaybird6232/pseuds/jaybird6232
Summary: Steve isn't sure why exactly he agreed to this; agreed to go on a frickin' TWO WEEK winter vacation with his friends to fucking DISNEYLAND. Hell, why did he let Sam talk him into this? He honestly should have been suspicious when Sam came into his and Bucky's shared apartment yesterday and declared that they were going to go to Disneyland for two weeks for winter break; no complaints, no arguments, no nothing. It was either Steve travel peacefully, or he would be duck-taped to the bottom of the plane. Steve chose the former.He's going to spend two damn weeks at the Happiest Place on Earth with the man he's been in love with for over half his life, and Sam actually expects him to come back to New York alive?He'll be lucky if he even lasts a few days, dammit.





	1. The Flight

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I’m back from the deep dark corners of the internet where I’ve been living as a hermit. THIS is the fic that I promised all of you in the end notes of the last one I wrote (Scars To Your Beautiful).
> 
> This is the BIG NEWS one, so… yeah, I hope you guys like it!
> 
> I’ve had fun writing it so far, and I can’t wait to hear what you all think about it! Be sure to leave an comment and/or a kudos if you guys truly enjoy it, because all the feedback is what keeps me writing :)
> 
> Also, since I’m rambling, I just wanted to say THANK YOU for over 4,000 hits of Scars To Your Beautiful!! All the feedback and comments were absolutely amazing, and you are all such wonderful readers! I hope that this fic lives up to all of your expectations! Thanks Lovelies! <3
> 
> ### My Aesthetic For This Story
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  

**_(Saturday, December 12, 2015)_ **

 

“I cannot believe that I let you talk me into this Stevie.”

“Oh c’mon Buck, ’s not _that_ bad,” Steve rolls his eyes as he slips off his shoes, his sock-covered feet stepping onto the cool tile flooring. He places his shoes into the small plastic bin beside him, then stuffs his hands into his skinny jean’s pockets, pulling out his phone, a folded-up piece of paper, earbuds, his car keys, a small packet of mint gum—it’s Bucky’s favorite, so Steve always keeps a packet on his person—and places them into the container where his shoes already lie in wait.

He shrugs his small art bag over his shoulder and goes place it in a separate plastic container, when Bucky suddenly takes it from him and places it into his own container; which is practically empty, not counting the older man’s shoes and cell phone. The rest of his items, such as his own ear buds and laptop, must be in his carry-on already, Steve thinks.

Steve looks up and meets Bucky’s gaze, sending him a smile, before he is being called over by airport security to go through the body scan.

“Oops, sorry ‘bout that.” Steve walks forward and through the scanner, sighing in relief when it doesn’t beep. Even though he isn’t carrying any weapons and he did nothing wrong, the body scanners have always made him feel nervous. He stretches his arms out to the side as the large security guard waves the small hand-held detector around his body. The guard waves him past and Steve goes to the end of the conveyor belt, grabbing his items and slipping on his shoes.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to lift up your sleeve,” A voice calls behind him. Steve turns and sees the security guard cross his arms and stare at Bucky. Bucky flicks his eyes over to Steve in a shallow panic before they lower to his arm; his _metal_ left arm.

“Sir! Sir, I’m sorry. Wait wait wait,” Steve scrambles over to the guard and pulls out the folded piece up paper that had been in his pocket earlier, and hands it to the large man before him.

Steve watches as the man’s eyes scan the printed document, reading it over a few times before he looks at Bucky first, then at Steve. What a pair they must be: a twenty-six year old skinny asthmatic artist, and a twenty-seven year old car mechanic with a goddamned metal arm, standing in the middle of the security section at the New York Airport.

The man sighs and hands the paper back to Steve. He studies Steve with a hard stare before he abruptly looks away, calling the next guest to step forward, completely ignoring the pair and letting them through. Steve hears Bucky let out a breath beside him as they both step through and leave. Bucky pulls on his shoes and pockets his phone, before he throws his arm over the smaller man’s shoulders.

Steve rolls his eyes as he grabs his art bag, the both of them walking a bit farther to pick up their carry-ons. Once the larger bags are in their possession, they walk towards their airline gate and take a seat on some nearby chairs.

“There you fucks are, we've been looking for you!” A voice exclaims as a newcomer strides up behind Steve and Bucky. Steve feels a hand grasp his shoulder and give it a shake in greeting, the newcomer's other hand repeating the motion on Bucky as well.

Natasha, Clint, and Maria come into view in front of him, taking their seats next to him as they all wait for the announcer to call their flight number. Sam finally lets go of his and Bucky's shoulders, going around the row of seats and saddling up next to Maria, placing a kiss on her cheek as he sits down. 

Steve isn't sure why exactly he agreed to this; agreed to go on a frickin' TWO WEEK winter vacation with his friends to fucking DISNEYLAND. Hell, why did he let Sam talk him into this? He honestly should have been suspicious when Sam came into his and Bucky's shared apartment yesterday and declared that they were going to go to Disneyland for two weeks for winter break; no complaints, no arguments, no nothing. It was either Steve travel peacefully, or he would be duck-taped to the bottom of the plane. Steve chose the former.

He really should have thought it through more than he had, because he hadn't realized that he would be spending Christmas, not only with his friends, but with his friends who are all in _relationships_. He wasn't in one, and neither was Bucky. Fucking convenient. It is so damn convenient. Fucking irony. 

He's going to spend two damn weeks at the Happiest Place on Earth with the man he's been in love with for over half his life, and Sam actually expects him to come back to New York alive?

He'll be lucky if he even lasts a few days, dammit.

Steve tries to mentally calm himself down as they wait for their flight number to be called so they can head to California. Bucky seems to be texting someone at the moment, so Steve lets himself zone out in thought again. It won't be that bad, Steve tries to convince himself. They already share an apartment, and a car, and a mailbox, and a goddamned Alexa Dot for pete's sake, so why, honestly, should he be worried?

He has every reason to be worried.

If Steve recalls correctly, they have never really slept in the same room together; unless of course, you count the occasional naps on the couch and the post-movie marathon slumbers in Bucky's bed and the emergency post-nightmare hazes that require Steve to crawl in with Bucky and stay there til' come morning.

But…sleeping in the same room? Sharing a sink, and a bathroom? And a closet? And drawers? And charger ports??

Nah, it won't be so bad..... right?

Nah, nah. It’ll be fine, It’s just Bucky.

“Flight 297A to Los Angeles, California, is now ready for boarding. All passengers for Flight 297A to Los Angeles, California, the plane is now boarding.”

“That’s us!” Clint shrieks, jumping out of his chair and running with Sam to the gate, both of them tying but failing to roll their carry-ons correctly.

“Oh lord, he’s such a child.” Steve hears Natasha remark, causing Bucky to snort.

“Damn straight he is,” Maria laughs at Bucky’s comment, saying that Sam and Clint are both complete idiots.

They all walk to the gate and hand over their plane tickets. Once the tickets are scanned, the lady lets them pass and go through the tunnel. Steve and Bucky are talking amicably the whole way to the plane—well, Steve is doing most of the talking, while Bucky is sending him these looks that he can’t quite decipher—telling each other what they are most excited for at Disneyland. Steve’s never been(but he did his research), so he’s especially excited.

They settle into the plane after a few minutes; it’s a smaller commercial airline that the group is flying with, so there are only two rows which consist of two seats. Sam and Maria sit in seats in front Natasha and Clint; the boys taking the window seats before their respective girlfriends can get a word in. Steve rolls his eyes and follows Bucky to their seats, which are right across the aisle from Natasha and Clint.

Bucky picks up his carry-on and places it into the compartment above, before he motions to Steve to hand his over so he can put it up as well. Steve stares at him.

“I can do it Buck, it’s fine.” Steve picks up his luggage and lifts it over his head, pushing it in next to Bucky’s. “See?”

“Yeah, I know you can. But I still coulda helped ya.” Bucky smirks and bites his lip, before stepping back and stretching out his arm, letting Steve go in first. Steve looks at the seat uncertainly before his gaze travels back to Bucky, who is still smirking and pulling at his lip with his teeth. God, it just makes Steve want to cross the distance and bite it for him. But, Steve doesn’t, because that would probably ruin his friendship with Bucky, because Bucky doesn’t like him back.

“Buck, you sure? I know you like the—"

“C’mon Steve, this is your first flight! You gotta sit by the window! It’s the best part!” Bucky explains, a huge grin taking over his face, so Steve agrees without much of a fight. He slides into his seat and looks out the window, taking in the sight of the air strip and watching as the plane crew loads luggage into neighboring planes, presumably for other flights. He feels Bucky take his own seat beside him, before he feels the other man’s chin rest on his left shoulder, knocking their heads together slightly.

Steve looks down and blushes, before he resumes to gazing outside.

“You excited Stevie?” Bucky mumbles, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

“Yeah. Kinda nervous though, but that’s normal, right?” 

Bucky lifts his head off Steve’s shoulder and nods. “Yeah. I’d think so. I remember the first time I went on a plane; I was kinda freaked out, but I just remember looking out the window and watching the takeoff… Steve, it’s truly amazing. You’re gonna love it.”

Steve goes to respond, but is cut off by the airline pilot, so both Bucky and Steve sit forward in their seats and listen to the announcement. “Good morning everyone, I just wanted to say thank you for flying with us today. This flight will take approximately… six hours, and right now it’s almost seven a.m. here in beautiful New York. However, due to the time change between the two coasts, we will arrive in Los Angeles at around ten a.m.. I know many airlines don’t do this; tell you about the time change, but hey, I like to help.”

“Yeah, he also likes to talk too.” Bucky leans over and whispers into Steve’s ear, the other man’s breath sending a warm tickle down his neck. Steve closes his eyes and laughs, shaking his head as the pilot continues.

“Okay, the flight attendants are going to run by the aisles and give you further instructions. This plane is going up in about five minutes.” The transmission cuts out, signaling the attendants to come forward and give the usual speech; ‘keep your seatbelt on for takeoff and landing, the oxygen masks are above and will pop out incase of an emergency, press the button for service, your seat is a flotation device, the bathroom is in the back’. Yada yada yada.

Even though he’s never flown, Steve knows protocol. He’s not an idiot; he’s seen enough Hallmark movies to be informed of this kinda shit.

“Buck, look. Someone’s giving you, _the look_.” Steve snorts as he pulls out his phone, going to his settings and resetting his time zone so that it’s set for the West Coast. He’s trying to distract himself from the male flight attendant that’s been sending Bucky side glances and suggestive smirks for the past couple of minutes.

Steve honestly shouldn’t be jealous; he’s not even dating Bucky for god’s sake, so why is he so upset? Well, Steve can answer his own question. He’s not exactly jealous, he’s just…unhappy? Unnerved? Irritated? Well, it’s one of those. It’s just… ugh.

Steve knows that he doesn't have a chance at a relationship with Bucky. Even though Bucky is gay, just like Steve, doesn’t mean that he’ll date Steve. Bucky could have literally any guy he wanted, so why would he _want_ to downgrade to someone like Steve? Haha, _he wouldn’t,_ that’s why.

Bucky rolls his eyes beside him, ”Yeah, and?”

“Nothin’, I’m just sayin’?”

Steve feels Bucky lean close again, “You implyin’ somethin’ Rogers?”

Steve laughs, trying to cover up the blush that creeps up his neck and cheeks, but to no avail. “Ha, you wish Barnes.”

Before Bucky can respond, the pilot comes over the transmission again. “Okay folks, this is Captain Rhodes, we are going to be taking off right now, so make sure your seat-belts are secured properly, because we are about to head off to Los Angeles.”

With that, the plane begins to move, so suddenly, that it actually shocks Steve and he immediately reaches for Bucky, clutching his arm in panic. Bucky throws his head back and laughs, the sound completely encasing Steve and washing a sense of calm over the small blonde.

“We haven’t even left the ground yet Steve,” Bucky chuckles, and Steve can hear the smirk playing off his lips.

Steve lets go of Bucky and sits up, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever punk.”

“Jerk,”

Steve sticks his tongue out at Bucky, because he’s a mature adult.

Steve feels the plane start to turn and face a long strip of concrete; it’s the runway. Holy shit, this is actually happening.

“Yes it is Stevie. Say hi to the camera,” Steve hears Bucky say, and he hadn’t realized he said his statement out-loud. Steve turns his head and sees Bucky with his phone out, recording him. Steve doesn’t look at the camera, but at Bucky instead.

“What’re you doin’, Buck?” Steve doesn’t even sound surprised. He shouldn’t be, really; Bucky always randomly records him doing something or going somewhere that’s new. 

Steve remembers one occasion, when a new art store opened up a few blocks from their apartment; Bucky had recorded Steve walking through the aisles of the small quaint shop, picking up boxes of paints and charcoal with excitement. Every time Steve picked one up, he’d admire it with earnest before another art feature caught his eye, causing him to put down whatever he was holding and run to the new piece.

“See anythin’ you like, Stevie?” Bucky had asked, causing Steve to turn around, revealing his arms full with art supplies; the grey beanie on his head slipping down slightly. Steve had just then realized that Bucky had been recording, his eyes growing wide with surprise. Boy, what a sight he must’ve been, arms full of paints and pencils and sketchbooks; his beanie trying but failing to hide his mess of blonde hair; eyes bigger than saucers; cheeks red from the cold winter air of New York and from surprised embarrassment.

“Uhh….?” Steve had said uncertainly, causing Bucky to howl with laughter, bending backwards and clutching his chest with one hand. Steve watched as Bucky walked away, coming back seconds later with a shopping basket. He had rushed over to Steve, letting the smaller man dump the contents into the basket carefully, before adjusting the basket on his arm. Bucky held the basket in one hand and his phone in the other, then trailed Steve around the store as he picked up art supplies and started talking amicably about the product in his hand, occasionally looking up at Bucky and answering his questions.

“I’m recording ya! This is your first flight, say hi!” Bucky waves around his phone in exaggeration, trying to prove his point.

Steve deadpans, then looks straight into the camera. “Hello Bucky’s phone. This is Steve Rogers, but you already know that….” He looks up at Bucky again. “What else am I ‘posed to say?”

Bucky laughs at what must be Steve’s confused expression, “Nothin’, just pretend that I’m not here.”

Steve rolls his eyes, giving a quick glance back to the phone and sticks his tongue out at it (again, because yes, he is a mature adult), causing Bucky to chuckle in response, before he turns in his seat and looks out the window. Steve thinks that Bucky has most likely turned off the video by now, since he’s not looking at the camera anymore, but little does he know that Bucky is still recording, a loving smile on his face as he watches Steve.

The plane begins to slowly start up, moving down the runway at a leisurely pace, before it starts to gradually pick up speed.

“Oh my god, Buck we’re taking off!” He doesn’t even look back at Bucky when he talks, he just scoots closer to the window, completely mesmerized and captivated by the sights outside the window.

The plane begins to gain more speed, the turbines on the side of the plane whirring to life with a loud _whoosh_. 

“Buck! Buck look!” Steve stammers, too excited to give a shit that he is acting like a complete five year old. He gets up close to the window and watches as the plane gets closer and closer to the edge, then suddenly, they’re in the air. Steve hears the plane wheels fold, the hatch containing them closing with a loud _clank_.

“Oh…. oh my g-god…. Bucky,” Steve whispers to the window, even though he’s talking to his best friend. Steve is just blown away; the view, the sizes of the buildings below him slowly shrinking. Steve whips out his phone and unlocks it, going straight for the photo app and opening it. Steve raises the camera to the window, gets a clear image of the ground below, and snaps a picture. Lowering the device into his lap, Steve stares outside as the plane begins to rise into the clouds, tufts of white surrounding the plane like smoke. Steve reaches out his hand and touches the glass, softly running the pads of his fingers over the smooth surface, in an effort to try and grab the fluffy clouds of white.

“Buck… do you… do you see this?” Steve finally turns around at the end of his question, now realizing the phone in Bucky’s hand is still recording, but he doesn’t care. Steve looks back and forth between Bucky and the window, his head turning slowly each time.

“What do you think of it, Stevie?” Steve fixes his gaze back to the window, looking at the endless sea of clouds.

“It’s… it’s beautiful Buck.”

“Yeah… you—it really is.”

 

___________________________________________________________

 

“Steve? Stevie? C’mon baby, time to wake up.”

Steve is sure he’s in some sort of post-sleep haze, because he thinks that he just heard Bucky call him ‘baby’. Steve slowly blinks his eyes open, taking in the view. He’s lying down, he realizes, his head in Bucky’s lap.

“Hi?” Steve’s confusion is as clear as day. When did he fall asleep? And how did he end up on Bucky’s lap?

Bucky sends him a toothy grin, lifting up his right hand and brushing a few strands of Steve’s hair from his face. Steve can’t stop the blush that wanders onto his face and chest.

“Hey Stevie, we’re about to land.”

“Wha… (yawn)… time is it?” Steve rubs a hand over his face, yawning again before he sets his hand down, opening his eyes again now that he’s more awake and alert.

“‘S about ten-fifteen, California time. The pilot just announced that we’re gonna land in about five minutes, so you gotta get your seatbelt back on ya.” Bucky responds casually, before he yawns too, trying to cover it up with a laugh, but it only makes him yawn again. Steve watches his best friend try not to yawn, and he can’t help but pull a small smile. He loves the way Bucky’s nose scrunches when he laughs; the way his eyes crinkle in the corners when a large grin takes over his lips. It takes everything in Steve’s power to not sit up and kiss Bucky’s smile.

“‘M ‘kay,” Steve sits up and rearranges himself so he’s seated properly, and buckles up.

“Alrighty folks, this is Captain Rhodes. We are about to start the landing process, so keep those belts on, because we are starting our decent to LAX.” 

“He still talks too much,” He hears Bucky remark next to him as the other man pulls out his phone, then buckles up.

“Uh huh,” Steve nods in affirmation, before he takes a glance to his friends across the aisle. He completely forgot that they were there; he thought it was just him and Bucky. Natasha is taking pictures of Clint’s sleeping form that is slumped forward against the window. Sam and Maria are listening to music, each one having an earbud in their ear, and holding hands. Steve smiles ruefully.

“Hey Stevie, yoo hoo,” Bucky’s waving hand brings him back to earth, and Steve realizes that Bucky’s recording him _again_.

Steve only throws him a raised eyebrow in response, completely unsurprised at Bucky’s action. Bucky looks at him from over his phone and tips his head towards the window, prompting Steve to look as well.

“What’re you lookin’ at—Whoa!” Steve presses up against the window, eyes as big as the moon as he watches the plane slowly descend into Los Angeles, passing giant skyscrapers and other buildings. He can’t even begin to describe his feeling; it’s like…unbelieving? With a hint of excitement and and apprehension? He’s not sure, but he also can’t believe this is happening. He’s never been out of New York; never really left Brooklyn, unless you count the art gallery openings that he attended in upstate New York.

“Oh my god, we’re landing! Buck, we’re landing!” Steve smiles to his best friend and waves him over. “C’mere, c’mere!” Bucky chuckles before complying, pressing up against Steve and looking out the window. Even though Steve’s blushing like an idiot, he doesn’t care. The view outside is too great to miss.

Bucky turns the phone so the camera is facing them instead of the window. “Smile Stevie!” Steve pulls up the biggest, most genuine grin he can as Bucky tilts his head and presses the top against Steve’s cheek, smiling just as wide.

Steve doesn’t even realize the plane has stopped, until the pilot speaks up, “Everyone, welcome, to The City of Angels.”


	2. Chapter Two: Day 1 pt.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re not getting that,”
> 
> “But Nat—”
> 
> “Natasha, let ‘im get whatever he wants.”
> 
> “Samuel Wilson, do not encourage him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IIIIIII’mmmmmm back!!!! The worst updater in the world has come back, with an extra long chappie for you lovelies because you guys deserve it ❤︎
> 
> Lol I can’t really prep you guys for this one, so hope you enjoy the new chapter!

“Oh my godddddddd,” Bucky groans out when he opens the hotel room door, holding open it open for Steve before he follows, dropping his bags to the ground and flopping onto the bed nearest the door; the springs singing at the sudden pressure. Steve snorts and walks to the sink, flipping on the light switch, then groaning at the sight of his hair. He turns to walk to his own luggage that he set down near the other bed in the room, when he notices Bucky starring at him, his head propped up on his arm.

“What’re you looking at?” Steve asks with genuine confusion. No answer.

“Bucky? Buck.” No answer.

“Buck?” Steve picks up his suitcase and carry-on,and places them both on the bed. Placing both hands atop his suitcase, Steve tries again. “BUCKY.”

“Huh, what?” Bucky snaps his head, eyes widening.

“Where d’ya go, Buck?” Steve questions as he turns, unzipping his suitcase and pulling out his clothes. If they’re going to stay in this hotel room for two weeks, Steve is definitely not going to be grabbing his clothes out of his suitcase.

“Amazin’ places, Stevie,” Steve hums in acceptance, not questioning Bucky’s response. He never does. Anytime that Bucky zones out, Steve doesn’t question it. It’s his friend’s privacy, so he’s not going to push.

Steve carefully places all of his clothing into the dresser that lies in the corner of the room; his belongings taking up the left side of all three drawers, while he leaves the right sides completely vacant for Bucky’s things. He pulls out his extra pairs of shoes and places them in the closet. Putting his now-empty suitcase atop the shelf in the closet, he turns to let Bucky know that he can put his things away.

“‘Kay Buck, your turn—oh,”

Only, Bucky is fast asleep on his bed by the window. Steve closes his eyes with a sigh and chuckles. He quietly makes his way to Bucky’s suitcase and unpacks it, transferring Bucky’s garments and shoes into the drawers and closet, and puts the suitcase on the shelf in the closet beside his.

Next, Steve goes back to his own carry-on that his lying in wait on his bed, and slowly unpacks it. Inside, he has his sketchbook, some pens and pencils, his laptop, his chargers for his phone and computer, and his toiletries. He puts his sketchbook, pencils, and his phone charger, onto the nightstand in-between the two beds, before he places his carry-on into his suitcase, zipping it closed and putting it back on the shelf.

Steve unpacks Bucky’s carry-on as well; carefully placing the contents onto his bed before putting Bucky’s carry-on in the other man’s suitcase, just like he did. When he turns back around, he notices that their hotel-room has a couch in it—a goddamned _couch_. Christ, how much did this whole trip cost Sam? Yeah, his parents are richer than _fuck_ , but, still?

Steve wanders back to his bed, picking up his and Bucky’s computer, and stacks them on the couch, then places Bucky’s toiletry bag on the sink counter next to his. He plugs in Bucky’s phone charger cable into the wall beside his own, before he pulls his phone out of his pocket and connects to his own charger. Steve sets down his phone and walks over to Bucky, tentatively pulling out the other man’s phone from his back pocket. Thank god Bucky fell asleep on his stomach, because Steve is too tired (and not strong enough) to roll Bucky over.

Plugging in Bucky’s phone, Steve goes to the end of the bed and starts pulling off Bucky’s shoes, careful not to wake the sleeping man, and places them in the closet. Walking back to the bed, Steve places his hands on his own hips as he stares at the body currently snoring on the bed. Man, Bucky must be _really_ tired, because he only snores when he’s exhausted. Or shitfaced drunk, but that’s beside the point.

Steve rubs his hands together before he kneels beside the bed, slowly brushing back Bucky’s hair from his face. “Hey Buck,” Steve whispers, as if he was talking to a sleeping child. “Buck, ya gotta help me out here, bud. Think ya can turn over for me?”

Bucky hums quietly, his mind most likely dancing between sleep and the real world. Carefully, Steve palms at Bucky’s shoulders, and the other man seems to get the memo, rolling onto his back. Steve unbuckles Bucky’s belt, pulling it out of his pant loops, before he tosses it aside. Steve tries but fails to keep his thoughts pure and holy as he unbuttons Bucky’s jeans and slowly rolls down the zipper. It’s kind of hard though, considering the fact that, since he’s on both knees beside the bed, he’s face to face with Bucky’s crotch. Try as he might, he can’t stop his mind from imagining a, _fruitful_ , scene: Bucky caging his in against the mattress; Steve’s arms pinned up above his head by Bucky’s hands as the brunet fucks him mercilessly.

Shaking his head, Steve resumes to his mission of getting Bucky ready for bed, because he knows that Bucky will probably bitch about it in the morning if he doesn’t. (You’ve got no idea how chaffing denim can be against a morning wood, Steve would know. He’s had too many drunken wet-dreams about Bucky). He works Bucky out of his jeans, ignoring the natural curve in Bucky’s boxers, and pulls the pants off. After folding them, standing up and placing them in a drawer with the rest of Bucky’s pants, Steve coaxes Bucky to sleepily sit up, so he can work the man out of his jacket.

Steve tosses the jacket atop of Bucky’s belt, and pulls off his shirt afterwards. Right as the shirt leaves Bucky’s shoulders, the other man falls back against the mattress, turning so he’s facing Steve’s bed, and promptly falls back asleep with a loud snore leaving his lips.

The blond rolls his eyes. “Jesus Christ.” Grabbing Bucky’s jacket, shirt, and belt, Steve walks away, putting the items in their respective places, before he goes back to Bucky, somehow managing to pull the sheets out from under the man and cover him. Steve smiles when Bucky cuddles into his pillow and hums sleepily.

Steve goes into the bathroom and strips, leaving himself in just boxers. He’s never really gotten undressed in front of anyone, and he really only takes off his shirt if he’s going swimming with Bucky and Nat and the rest of the gang. He’s not a huge fan of the way he looks; the way his ribs announce themselves against his pale flesh; the way his hipbones jut out and make a statement; the way his chest and collarbone make themselves known. He doesn’t hate it, but he’s not exactly happy either. Sighing, he pulls on the extra large shirt that he grabbed on his way to the bathroom, and opens the door; shutting it on his way out and puts his clothing into the drawers, before turning off the light.

He walks to his bed in the dark, moaning in content as he climbs under the covers and digs his head into the pillows. He blindly reaches for his phone, turning on the ringer and the sound, and sets his alarm. Steve plans on taking a shower first thing in the morning, so he wants to get up early.

Setting the phone back down, Steve shuffles a bit under the covers, and falls asleep, not missing the faint, “Night Stevie,” that travels across the room.

Steve smiles just as sleep overtakes him.

“G’night Buck.”

___________________________________________________________

 

Steve hums happily as he turns on the water, the warm spray above slowly waking him up. It’s five forty-five in the morning; Sam wanted to get to the park as soon as it opened, which is at eight, so they only have two hours before they need to leave the hotel; Sam also said something about stopping at Starbucks for breakfast, so they are going to leave the hotel at seven-thirty.

Steve scrubs some soap into his hair, fluffing it up before smoothing it out and rinsing it. He washes his body next, careful to avoid the large bruise that is beginning to take shape on his lower abdomen, right on his hip, an two or three inches above the base of his dick. He got into a minor… _disagreement_ , if you will… with some jackass at a local bar who wouldn’t leave a poor girl alone.

Steve knows the other guy got the message though; a broken nose and dislocated jaw isn’t something that can be easily ignored; Steve just doesn’t want Bucky to find out. Because if Bucky finds out, he’ll never hear the end of it, and Steve would probably have to tie Bucky to a chair or something to stop the other man from going on a manhunt for the jackass who hit Steve. Steve can’t actually muster up the physical strength to tie Bucky to any surface, so Bucky not knowing is the best option for the time being.

Shutting off the water, Steve steps out of the shower, grabbing one of the hotel-provided towels from the rack above the toilet, and dries himself off. When he’s done, he wraps the towel around his waist, sighing in relief when it covers his growing bruise. He opens the door, keeping it propped open so he can use the light from the bathroom to see a path through the dark hotel room.

He thinks that Bucky is still sleeping, but little does he know that the brunet had actually woken up sometime during his shower. Grabbing a new pair of boxers and his pajama shirt from last night, plus a pair of socks, because hotel floors are dirty dammit, Steve goes back into the small bathroom and quickly changes, now using his towel to dry his hair a bit, before he hangs it back up on the rack and turns off the bathroom light.

“Yeesh,” Steve mutters to himself as he flips on the light above the sink and takes in his reflection in the mirror. His hair is still a little wet, and it’s sticking up in all possible directions. He runs his hands over it in an effort to calm the fray, but—

“Ehh, whatever.” Steve walks closer to the counter and unzips his toiletry bag, pulling out his toothbrush and toothpaste. He doesn't hear the rustling of sheets behind him, for he’s far too busy brushing his teeth and humming some nondescript tune to notice. Once he’s finished, he spits into the sink and wipes his mouth, before putting his brush in a plastic cup beside the sink, and his toothpaste back into his bag. When he glances back up into the mirror, he almost has a heart attack.

“Ahh!” Steve backs up into the body behind him, completely in shock. Firm hands grip his waist as his back hits Bucky’s bare chest, and he places his own hands atop Bucky’s, keeping them there as he tries to calm his beating heart.

Bucky lets out a husky chuckle before he rests his chin on Steve’s head, sending the blond an over exaggerated smile in the mirror.

“Mornin’ Stevie,” Bucky yawns.

“Mornin’ ya fuckin’ dork, how d’ya sleep?”

“Surprisingly okay, actually. You?” Bucky’s fingers start to play with the hem of Steve’s shirt, and Steve doesn’t need the mirror to know that he’s blushing.

“Really good, to be honest.”

Bucky closes his eyes, humming in affirmation as his arms, both metal and flesh, wrap around Steve’s middle and he gives the blond a tight hug from behind. Steve almost melts at the contact. He feels safe and warm and just so damned _loved_. Unfortunately, Bucky doesn’t have an interest in him, so he better get over this stupid crush. Unfortunately, again, he’s been harboring this crush on his best friend since _eighth_ fucking grade.

“Ugh, you smell; go shower.” Steve pats Bucky’s arm, making the other man laugh out and finally open his eyes. Letting go of Steve, Bucky walks into the bathroom and starts the water; Steve’s eyes follow the movement and he has to quickly glance away before his friend catches him eyeing his ass.

“Care to join me, Stevie?” Bucky calls out.

Steve snorts. “You wish Barnes. Hurry up, it’s almost six fifteen.”

Steve goes back to his bed, lying down on his stomach as he reaches over for his phone, which is lying on his art bag. Unplugging it, he unlocks it and scrolls through his social media feed, occasionally liking some photos of his friends on Facebook and Instagram, before he gets a text from Sam and Clint.

**_Sam: GOOOODDDDD MORNING CAMPERS!!_ **

**_Clint: Fuk off man, it’s to early for this shiz_ **

**_Steve: Hey Sam_ **

**_Sam: Hey ‘Stevie’. See Clint? ‘Stevie’ gets it_ **

**_Steve: Stevie?_ **

**_Clint: Oh ho ho, watch out Sam_ **

**_Steve: Wtf?_ **

**_Sam: It’s nothing, ignore him_ **

**_Clint: C’mon now ‘Stevie’, you won’t ignore lil’ ol’ me_ **

 

_Steve Rogers has removed Clint B. from the conversation_

 

**_Steve: Watch me_ **

**_Sam: I can’t physically high five you right now, but thank you for that_ **

**_Steve: Imma add him back tho_ **

**_Sam: No no no—_ **

 

_Steve Rogers has added Clint B. to the conversation_

 

**_Clint: Fuk you bro_ **

**_Steve: Ha, you wish Barton_ **

**_Clint: I don;t, I’m a faithful boyfriend. But I know someone who wouldn’t mind ;)_ **

**_Steve: Carter Baizen from Stark’s accounting floor? XD_ **

**_Sam: You dumb fuk_ **

**_Steve: I’m so confused rn_ **

**_Clint: Whatever, just forget about it_ **

**_Sam: Btw, forgot 2 tell u guys yesterday, but we’re leaving at 7 instead of 7:30, cuz traffic’s a bitch, so hurry your asses up, it’s already 6:20_ **

**_Steve: I’m practically dressed_ **

**_Sam: ……fuk you man_ **

**_Clint: Steve, being dressed in a gigantic shirt, socks, and boxers that do nothing to cover your little ass, does not count as being dressed_ **

**_Steve: How……?_ **

**_Clint: Close your curtains next time_ **

Steve snaps his head up so quickly, he’s surprised that he doesn’t have whiplash. There, standing outside his window, being a creepy son of a bitch, is none other than Clint Barton, who’s smirking like what he’s doing is completely normal.

Steve scrambles off the bed in record time, running over to the door and unlatching it.

“What the hell, Clint?!”

Clint however, doesn’t respond, because he’s too busy laughing and trying not to spill the coffees in his hands. Of course, Natasha was probably bugging him for the coffee downstairs, typical. Clint makes a small motion with his finger, gesturing to Steve’s outfit as he throws his head back and laughs again.

“You look so cute,” Clint chortles out, laughing even more.

“I’m not _cute_ , I’m a grown ass man, you fucker.” Steve crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, before punching Clint’s arm that isn’t holding the tray containing two coffees.

“Okay okay—ow!” Clint steps back, a grimace immediately replacing his smirk.

“Aww, you’re cute when you’re in pain,” Steve mocks, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk of his own.

“Steve, who’s at the door—oh, hey Hillary _Clint_ on.” A voice calls, making Steve turn and find Bucky walking towards him and Clint with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping down his shoulders and torso.

“Ha ha,” Clint deadpans. “That fucking joke never gets old, huh?”

“‘Course not, you’re the one getting older.” Bucky smirks, coming up behind Steve, and Steve is having a hard time resisting the urge to look at Bucky’s perfectly chiseled chest, fitted with nothing but abs and thick muscles.

He fells a twinge of self conscious at the thought of his friend’s appearance. His friend is good looking, charming, fit as hell, and manages to catch everyone’s eye; while Steve… he doesn’t even want to think about it. He slowly wraps his arms around himself, crossing them over his chest tighter, making his shirt fold multiple times over due to the enormous size. At least this shirt can hide his appearance from everyone… everyone but himself. 

God, no wonder no one gives him so much as a second glance

Clint glares. “Aren’t you hilarious. Anyway, first of all, put on a fucking shirt Barnes, and both of you hurry your asses up; we leave in forty.” And with that, Clint walks down the hall, turning right at the end of the balcony and heading into his own room.

Steve snorts and closes the door, before he sprints over to the dresser and hastily opens the drawers with excitement. He pulls out a grey tee and the same jeans from yesterday, and throws them onto the bed, a huge beaming smile on his face.

“Whoa, slow down there sport.” Bucky laughs, making Steve shake his head and move impossibly faster to the closet. Bucky has to physically pick up his small frame and drag him towards his bed and sit him down. God, they’ve been in this hotel room for less than twenty-four hours, and Bucky’s sheets already smell like _Bucky_.

“Sit,” Bucky instructs, before walking over to the closet and pulling out a jacket and placing it on Steve’s bed along with the rest of the clothes he threw there. Steve sits patiently and watches Bucky move gracefully around the room, admiring his friend’s wet, half naked appearance.

Steve watches as Bucky steps back after rearranging Steve’s clothes, crossing his arms over his broad chest before nodding. “M’kay, all good.”

Steve gets up and pads over to Bucky, standing beside him as they both stare at the clothes on the bed. He has to admit, Bucky did a good job picking out his outfit. The brunet replaced his grey tee with a long-sleeved version of it, and has even set down his own leather jacket on the bed too. Well, Steve wore it yesterday, and he’s worn it before in the past, so really, he wears it more often than Bucky actually does.

So technically, it’s his jacket now. He has no plans of giving it back.

After staring at the clothes for a few more seconds, Steve nods his head lightly. “Okay, looks good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna go change real’ quick.” Steve grabs his outfit and walks over to the bathroom, stepping in quietly and shutting the door, before he turns on the light and strips out of everything except his boxers. He steps into his jeans, carefully buttoning them in an effort to avoid his growing bruise. After slipping on the shirt and jacket, he steps out of the bathroom and throws his pajama shirt onto the bed, wandering over to the closet to grab his shoes.

He picks them up and walks over to the hotel room door and sets them there; they aren’t leaving for another forty minutes at least, so there’s no need to put them on now. Once he’s done, he steps over a few feet and flops down next to Bucky on the bed. Somehow, the other man is already completely dressed, save for his shoes that are also by the door.

They do nothing but talk and laugh and watch TV for forty minutes until the rest of their friends text them and tell the pair to meet them in the parking lot so they can drive to Starbucks.

“You’re not getting that,” Natasha sayswhen they arrive at the drive through, looking at the menu and ignoring Steve’s protests in the third row of the rental car.

“But Nat—”

“Natasha, let ‘im get whatever he wants.”

“Samuel Wilson, do not encourage him.”

“Hi welcome to Starbucks! What can I get started for you?” A cheery voice announces, breaking up the argument. Sam lifts up his sunglasses and leans agains the car door. He glances at Natasha out of the corner of his eye, and smirks.

“Yeah, hi. Umm, could I get a Venti Carmel Frappuccino please?”

Natasha whips her head up, horrified. “No!” She shout-whispers.

Steve pumps his fist in the air with a cry of joy while Sam orders everyone else’s drinks, Natasha mumbling something about _“too much sugar”_ and _“Diabetes Steven. Diabetes.”_.

Once Sam pays and they get their drinks, he drives towards Disneyland. The whole way there, Steve sips his drink obnoxiously loud just to piss of Natasha, and the whole while, he doesn’t notice Bucky squirming in his seat or palming subtly at his crotch.

Sam pulls their rental car into the parking structure, laughing at Steve’s impatient expression that’s littering his face. Both Steve and Bucky took the very back row of the big grey rental, which means that they have to wait until Natasha and Clint get out before they can move the seats down and crawl over.

“You excited Steve?” Bucky questions for the millionth time, causing Steve to nod frantically and smile.

“Yes! Guys! Guys c’mon!” Steve happily points to the Park Tram signs at the end of their parking level, making Sam and Clint both snort at his childish attitude. Much to his frustration, his friends take absolutely _forever_ to fucking _walk_ to the Trams, which makes Steve frown for five solid minutes while they wait in line.

The six of them take up only one row in a Tram car, with Sam on one end and Steve on the other. Steve and Bucky are simply chatting away carelessly when a cast member comes by and taps on Steve’s shoulder.

“Excuse me, but you need to sit towards the inside of the Tram.” A skinny little brunet says.

Steve turns, confused by what she means. “What?”

She points to the warning signs above their heads, causing Steve to turn. _Small children are to be seated towards the inside of the Tram_ , the sign reads, and it hits Steve like a runaway train. Does this lady actually think that he’s a _kid_?

He feels Bucky’s metal hand slide into his right hand, and instantly he feels a sense of calm. Instead of getting angry at the poor girl who’s just trying to do her job, Steve squeezes Bucky’s hand and replies smoothly. “Ma’am, I’m twenty-six.”

Shock covers her face, before the apologies start spilling out like a flood. Steve waves his hand. “Don’t worry about it, I get it a lot.”

She smiles sadly and walks away, probably to make sure that the rest of the passengers have the Tram doors closed, and Steve lets out a sigh. Bucky slips his hand out of his and instead throws it over his shoulders, and Steve curls into his side instinctively. He feels Bucky press a kiss on his head, and he smiles, closing his eyes and not opening them until the Tram ride is over.

At least Bucky doesn’t treat him like a kid.

The walk through the bag check is quick and easy, since Steve, Natasha, and Maria are the only ones in their group who have bags. After leaving the check area, they walk to the ticket scanners at the entrance of Disneyland. Steve’s little body is absolutely buzzing with excitement. He stares over the ticket turnstiles and sees the HUGE flower bed at the base of the Disneyland Train Station. He whips out his phone and takes a picture or two, before putting it back in his pocket.

He doesn’t even notice Bucky recording him again.

The whole crew pulls out their ticket conformation papers and hands them over to the cast member to scan and replace with actual tickets.

“Buck! Bucky, we’re getting our tickets!” Steve pulls on the lapels of Bucky’s jacket, noticing the phone and this time, he doesn’t mind it; he actually _waves_ happily at it and smiles, before looking up at Bucky.

“Sign here, sirs.” The cast member calls to them both, and they walk over and sign their names on their small paper tickets. The lady scans it once more, before handing it back to them along with a map of the park.

“Welcome to Disneyland.”

___________________________________________________________

 

Steve’s first day at Disneyland is by far one of the best days of his life. Disneyland is like nothing he’s ever experienced before. Just the sight of all the rides listed on the map in his hands is making his eyes shine brighter than stars. The smell of all the food and treats is making his mouth water to the point where he’s trying not to drool. The sounds— well, he could do without as much noise, because it’s really, _really_ loud here.

Steve is beyond grateful for his friends too, because they've basically have handed him the reigns over the day, and they're just hanging on for the ride.

“Oh oh! What’s this ride?” He asks, pointing to the map as they walk through Main Street. He’s already read over the entire map about three times, memorizing every walkway, shop, and attraction. Just incase he loses his map, he wants to be able to find his way around the park.

Sam comes in close, looking over Steve’s shoulder at the ride the blond is currently pointing at. “Well, I can’t see it if your finger is blocking it, Steve.” Sam jokes, making Steve quickly move his finger just below the image on the map. “Oh! That, my friend, is The Pirates of the Caribbean.” 

“Can we go on it?” Steve asks, smiling at the map.

“Yeah, we can—” But Steve is already folding up the map at lightning speed, tucking it into a small square and shoving it into his pocket before he grabs Sam’s hand and tugs him through the crowd.

“Guys, wait up!” The rest of the group calls, but Steve continues to pull Sam, hearing the other man laugh and throw a ‘ _hurry up!_ ’ over his shoulder to their friends. In less than five minutes, the two of them reach the line, panting harshly. Well, technically Steve is the one panting harshly, while Sam hasn’t even broken a sweat. It’s probably because Sam and Bucky go on runs at the ass crack of dawn every single morning, and they’re used to… *shudder* _running_.

Gosh, Steve can’t _stand_ the alarm that Bucky sets every morning. It’s loud enough to penetrate through the wall that separates them, and Bucky usually makes a lot of noise to actually get up and out of bed to go on his damned run. 

But apparently, it’s paid off, because right as Steve and Sam enter the line, Bucky is right behind them, along with Natasha and Maria, who are casually sipping their drinks from earlier. Steve still doesn’t understand how the fuck they do that.

“You little punk!” Bucky exclaims, wrapping his arms around Steve from behind and picking him up, stepping forward when the line moves again. Steve squirms in his arms, laughing loudly when Bucky spins around. He knows that there are probably people staring at them, but he really doesn’t care; it’s his first day at Disneyland, and he’s here with his best friend, so everyone else can stick it.

The line is rather short thankfully, since they all decided to come to the park early. It’s less than a ten minute wait before they are all piled into a boat, their group taking up three rows: Sam and Maria, Clint and Natasha, and Steve with Bucky. 

Then the ride starts, and Steve screams.

He wasn’t expecting a drop within the first minute of the ride, much less expecting one at all. He clings to Bucky’s chest as the boat goes down, hearing his friend laugh as both metal and flesh arms wrap around his small frame. The fall is over as soon as it starts, leaving Bucky laughing so hard he’s gasping for air.

“You jerk!” Steve exclaims, punching Bucky’s shoulder. “You knew that was gonna happen!”

Bucky laughs again breathlessly, the boat dropping again and entering a dimly lit cavern, with a dead mermaid on the beach and an annoying animatronic seagull squawking without end. Steve can hear Clint chuckling silently, so he takes the initiative and punches Clint between the shoulder blades, which causes his friend to cringe slightly before he bursts into another bout of giggles.

“I hate you guys,” Steve mumbles, but he’s smiling.

“Ah c’mon, don’t be like that.” Bucky teases, pulling Steve into his lap. Steve tries not to visibly tense at the feeling of Bucky’s thick-as-fuck-thighs underneath his ass, and he truly hopes that Bucky doesn’t notice how hot he’s getting or how clammy his hands are.

Today is going to be a very, _very_ long day.

___________________________________________________________

 

By three p.m., they had already gone on majority of the rides at the park, including the carousel and even Dumbo, which earned them some strange looks in return. Steve had managed to sneak bites of Bucky’s cotton candy when he thought his friend wasn’t looking, but little did he know that Bucky was letting him do it.

They then left that section of the park, going towards the Tomorrowland area, much to the joy of Clint and Bucky. The group had just gotten off of Star Tours when Clint shrieked in surprise and brought his hands to his face, trying to cover his grin.

“Clint? Clint what’s—” Bucky starts, but is soon to follow Clint’s shocked reaction, the both of them grabbing and pulling each other close, staring ahead at the next attraction.

_Space Mountain._

“I-Is that…” Bucky tries, but he can’t continue.

“Yes, yes it is! Guys let’s go!” Clint takes off towards the ride with Bucky in tow, and Steve only smiles sadly as he watches his friends sprint through the crowd. He can’t go on the ride, unfortunately, due to his scoliosis. Prior to coming to Disneyland, Steve had researched all the rides to see if they had any jeering turns or death-defying drops, and _this_ was the only ride, besides California Screamin’, that he couldn’t go on.

Well, technically, he _could_ go on them, but his back would start hurting immediately after, and he would most likely be stuck in the hotel room crying into his pillow from the pain in his back.

And he does not want that.

“Steve?” Sam’s voice breaks him out of his haze. “Steve, you comin’?”

Steve waits before the rest of the group walks past them before pulling Sam aside and walking with him behind the others. He doesn’t want the other to know, because if they know, then they won’t want to go on it because he’s not going on it. Sam is probably the only level headed out of all of them when it comes to situations like this. “I can’t go on this ride, Sam.”

“What? Why— oh y-your back, huh?” Steve suddenly wishes that he hadn’t said anything, because he can hear the pain and regret in Sam’s voice, and he feels like a complete ass for putting it there.

“Really, Sam it’s fine.” Steve points to the outdoor food court seating area that is right beside the entrance of the ride, and continues. “I’ll wait right over there for you guys.”

“Steve, the wait time for the ride is _thirty_ minutes. What are you going to be doing the whole time?” Sam asks incredulously, and Steve can only laugh as he pats his messenger bag. Inside, he has his sketchbook and some pencils. He could really take advantage of this opportunity to get some commissions done.

“Go Sam, I’ll be fine.” Sam nods regretfully before he walks with the rest of to the entrance of the ride. None of them, except Sam, have noticed that he’s not with them.

With a sigh, Steve averts his gaze and walks up the slope of concrete before turning and entering the Pizza Port food court outdoor seating area, and he snags a table and takes a seat.

Just as he flips open his bag and pulls out his sketchbook and other supplies, Bucky bursts into view, panting hard from sprinting. Steve yelps when Bucky ungracefully runs into the table.

“Steve, what’re you doin’?!” Bucky demands, but it’s not very threatening since the brunet can barely form a sentence over the sound of his hard breathing. Steve waits with a smirk for his friend to catch his breath.

Bucky’s hair is falling out of his ponytail, and his face is flushed a light pink. A small sheen of sweat is starting to show above Bucky’s lips, and Steve has to physically restrain himself from leaning forward and licking it off.

“Steve, w-why aren’t…” Bucky starts, “Why aren’t you comin’?”

Steve smiles sadly to his friend, looking down at the pencil he’s currently twirling in his hand. “I can’t go Buck…”

“Why— oh, I forgot. Shit, I’m so sorry Stevie.” Bucky apologizes, and pulls out a chair to sit across the small square table from Steve. Steve eyes Bucky warily as the brunet takes a seat.

“Umm, what’re ya doin’ Buck?”

Bucky looks up like he’s been slapped. “I-I’m gonna stay here with you.”

“Buck, don’t be an idiot, I _saw_ how much you wanted to go on that ride.”

“Oh yeah, like hanging out with you is an idiotic idea.” Bucky snorts sarcastically.

“Uh yeah, it is.” Bucky glares at him. “Just go Bucky, I’ll be here when you get back… don’t make me call your mother.” Steve states, opening his sketchbook as his friend pops out of the chair.

“Okay, okay! I’m goin’, I’m goin’!” Bucky chortles out, making Steve laugh. God, his friend was such a dork sometimes. “You call me if you go anywhere, ya hear?”

“Yes sir,” Steve mock salutes, earning a grin from his friend, before the brunet disappears from his sight.

Steve begins drawing a few minutes later. It’s a commission for Peggy’s coffee shop that she had asked him to do a little while back, but he never got around to it. She wanted something simple: a portrait of her and her girlfriend Angie, to be precise. Steve’s phone had accidentally taken a photo when he took it out of his pocket one morning at the coffee shop, and it had captured a perfect moment.

Angie was depicted pouring a refill for Steve’s cup of coffee while Peggy was coming up behind her girlfriend with a bag of flour clutched in her hands. The picture snapped just as Peggy positioned the open bag over Angie’s head.

Truly, it was a perfect moment.

Peggy was the one who heard the camera click, so while Angie was busy laughing and washing flour from her face in the back room, Peggy had asked Steve to open the phone and show her picture. She loved it, and now, Steve was glancing back and forth between his sketchpad and his phone as he put the final touches on his work of art.

“Hi there,”

Steve’s head whips up quickly, staring up at the newcomer.

He’s big, but not as big as Bucky muscle wise. Tall, brunet, kind of scruffy, but overall he’s not a bad looking guy. He’s dressed in a Pizza Port outfit, and he’s holding a lunch tray, so Steve puts two and two together and realizes that this guy is a Disney cast member on his lunch break.

“Uh, h-hi.” Steve stammers.

The mystery guy gestures to the seat that Bucky had been sitting in a few minutes ago. “You mind if I join you?”

“N-no, go ahead.”

Mystery guy grins, setting down the tray before pulling out the chair and taking a seat. While ripping open a packet of ketchup for his burger, the man speaks up again. “I’m Brock, by the way.”

“I’m Steve,”

The man hums in acceptance, so Steve just looks down and continues shading in the edges of Peggy’s face with his pencil. He really wants to finish this commission for his friend, so he keeps at it.

“What’re ya drawin’ kid?”

Steve snorts, not even looking up. “I’m not a kid.”

Brock laughs. “I know. Still, what’re ya drawin’?”

Steve explains that it’s a picture for his friend’s shop, but he doesn’t give too much information. He just met this guy, for pete’s sake, and Steve can’t help but feel a strange vibe from this guy.

But, he tries to ignore it because he doesn’t like to be judgmental.

“You here by yourself, Steve?” Brock asks after a few minutes of silence, causing Steve to look up from his now-finished drawing as he quickly signs his name on the bottom, before putting his pencil down.

“Here, as in…?” This guy is confusing. Here? Here as in _where_? The food court? Disneyland? California? The United States? Earth?

“Here. The food court.” Oh okay. “Got anyone that’ll kick me outta here?”

“Oh, no. All my friends are on Space Mountain right now.”

Brock leans back in his chair, studying Steve as he folds his arms with a grin. “How come you’re not goin’ on it? Space Mountain not good enough for ya?”

Steve immediately shakes his head, because he doesn't want to offend this guy at all. “No no no! I just… I can’t… ugh, back problems.”

Brock’s face falls. “Oh man. Jesus I’m sorry, I didn't mean—”

“It’s fine,” Steve confirms. “Don’t worry about it, I’m used to it.”

Brock nods sympathetically and leans forward, taking Steve’s hands in his own. Steve tenses immediately, subtly trying to pull his hands out of this guy’s grip. He’s trying to keep himself from having a panic attack; guys like this are the same ones that beat him up in the alleyways behind the bars in New York.

He knows that this guy means well, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to save his hands. Unfortunately, this guy just fucking _tightens_ his grip on Steve’s small hands and rubs his thumbs across the tops.

“Don’t let anyone treat you differently,” Brock states with a dark, unsettling look in his eyes, before looking down at his watch and jumping up from his seat. The second Brock loosens his grip on his hands, Steve immediately pulls them to his chest, cradling them and keeping them safe. The only person that he _lets_ grab his hands is _Bucky_ , and this guy certainly isn't _Bucky_.

“Shit, I’m five minutes over my break, gotta go.” With that, Brock grabs his empty food tray and leaves with a small ‘see you later, Steve’ playing off his lips.

“God, I hope not.” Steve mutters quietly to himself. "Please, do not see me later. Ever.”

No matter how nonjudgmental Steve tries to be, he can’t help but feel that something just isn’t right with this Brock guy…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm, what’s up with Brock, huh? ;)
> 
> (I was thinking of making a Brock POV for just THIS chapter, so you guys might know what he was thinking. Let me know if I should do it or not ♡)
> 
> ## Food Court
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> So, this is what the seating area looks like at Disney, and just a little ways up the concrete slope is the entrance to Space Mountain. Hopefully this helps anyone who was confused :)
> 
> ## Visual Inspiration For Brock Rumlow
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> (Honestly, if anyone wants to know what Brock’s POV on this part was, please please let me know, because I want to freak you all out) ;)
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chappie, and I hope that you guys aren’t too mad at me for being a lousy updater :\ :]
> 
> Be sure to leave comment/kudos if ya’ll liked it! I’ll see you lovelies next chapter!


	3. Chapter Three: Day 1 pt2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We,” Clint states matter-of-factly. “Are going to go get the food.”
> 
> Steve perks up. “Can I come?”
> 
> “Yeah,” Bucky says at the same time Clint says, “No.”
> 
> Steve looks between the two of the with a confused expression, a small pang of hurt hitting his chest. “Umm…?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so so so sorry for not updating this sooner. I feel like such a terrible person, you guys have no idea. Writer's block hit me pretty hard on this story, so I am truly sorry. I can't believe you guys still put up with me, but thank you for doing so.
> 
> So this is Day 1 pt2, so I really hope you guys enjoy it ❤︎
> 
> (Also, I have some awesome news in the endnotes, so check it out when you're all done reading) :)

“Oh gosh, I’m exhausted.” Steve grumbles as they take a seat at the table.

Clint called dibs on where the whole gang got to eat for dinner, and for once, Steve is happy that Clint is the one making the dinner decisions. The idiot actually manages to find a place that doesn't serve _just_ pizza.

The small little café where Clint chose to have dinner at is called _The French Market_ , which was located right in the heart of New Orleans Square. Clint swears by their food, especially the soups that are served.

“You _have to_ try the clam chowder Steve.” Clint whines as he leans over the table across from Steve. The blond looks up at his friend and sees the small plea glinting in his eyes.

“Fine.”

“Yes!” Clint shoots out of his chair and makes his way around the table, pulling Sam and Bucky to their feet. 

“The fuck you think you’re doin’?” Bucky exclaims quietly, noting that there are, in fact, children around. Steve grins internally; of course Bucky would be the one worrying about exposing young kids to curse words and whatnot. He knows how Bucky feels about children, because the brunet just fucking _adores_ them. 

Whenever a family comes into the car shop, Steve knows that Bucky will do the best he can to keep the kids quiet and not running around the shop. Steve has stumbled across a mountain of coloring books and crayons that Bucky keeps in the main lobby of the car shop a countless number of times (but he won’t admit that yes, he has colored in some of them too). 

Steve wonders if Bucky would ever have kids one day. Well, the answer is kind of obvious; of _course_ Bucky would have kids one day. Bucky would find a nice guy that he could spend the rest of his life with. He’d get married, have kids and grandkids, and he’d grow old with the love of his life.

And Steve… well, Steve would be happy for him obviously. All he wants is for his best friend to be happy in life, even if that means that he won’t be. Steve’d be heartbroken, of course, but he’d put on a smile for his friend. 

Fake it ’til you make it, right?

“We,” Clint states matter-of-factly. “Are going to go get the food.”

Steve perks up. “Can I come?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says at the same time Clint says, “No.”

Steve looks between the two of the with a confused expression, a small pang of hurt hitting his chest. “Umm…?”

“You stay, we’ll get the food.” Before Steve even has a chance to respond, Clint is ushering Sam and Bucky away and towards the entrance of the _The French Market_. Bucky throws him a look over his shoulder that portrays as _“I’m sorry”_ and Steve snorts and sends him a wave.

When he turns back around, Natasha and Maria are staring at him intently, their gazes unwavering. Steve feels his cheeks heat up at the prolonged looks he’s getting from his friends, and he starts to squirm slightly in his seat.

“Guys, what’re you—”

“When are you planning on telling Bucky you like him?” Maria asks all at once, her voice rushed and hurried.

“What?!” Steve asks indignantly, eyebrows raised to his hairline in shock. His hands are pressed palm-down on the smooth table in an effort to comprehend what he was just asked. “What the hell are you talking about?!”

“Oh please, Steven.” Natasha retorts effortlessly. When Steve doesn’t respond, she grins. “Oh god, you’ve got it bad.”

Rather than argue with his friends, Steve sighs and slumps his shoulders, knocking his head on the table. “That obvious, huh?” He mumbles quietly, and he doesn’t have to look up to know his friends are smirking.

“Well, not really…” Maria tries to assure, but Natasha just barrels over her. “It’s pretty fucking obvious.”

Steve lifts his head from the table and sinks down in his chair comfortably, watching Maria shoot a glare at Natasha. They have a small conversation with their eyes, before Maria sighs and Natasha grins, signaling her victory.

“So,” Natasha folds her hands together on the table and wiggles her eyebrows. “You and Barnes, huh?”

Steve blushes, but shakes his head. “There’s nothing going on between us Nat, and you know it.”

“Well yeah, because _all you do_ is complain about how James will never love you. Seriously, have you ever considered that he may like you back?”

Steve can’t help it; he starts laughing. Like, really hard. So hard that Maria considers on getting up and getting him a water. Steve wipes his eyes and tries to soften his grin, but he can’t. Natasha is fucking _hilarious_. Bucky liking him back, _pft,_ yeah right.

“You,” Steve chokes, “Are hilarious, Nat.”

“I wasn’t joking Steve, have you ever con—”

“Nat, I love you, but please just stop. I can’t get my hopes up about this.”

“Steve—”

“Please…” Steve pleas quietly, his request coming out as more of a whisper. His smile is gone and is replaced with a saddened pout. He knows that Natasha didn’t mean any harm, but it still hurts.

The fact is, it hurts like hell. The thought of there being hope of a relationship makes him happy, until he remembers that… there is no hope of them being in a relationship. His love is sadly unrequited, no matter how hard his friends try to screw it into his mind that it’s not, he knows better. Let’s be real, Steve has known Bucky since before he could walk; they grew up together; experienced so many things together; maybe if he was more attractive, or stronger, or was more handsome, or just fucking _more_ in general, he would have a chance. Just a slim chance, but it’d still be a chance.

A chance that he currently doesn’t have but wishes he did.

He feels a cool and steady hand rest over his on the table and looks up. Maria is looking at him with a sad smile, and so is Natasha. Maria gives his hand a small squeeze as she speaks, “We’re sorry Steve, we didn’t mean to upset you. We just want what’s best for you.”

Steve does his best to pull up something that resembles a smile, but he doesn’t respond to her. He just… he needs a moment to lower his hopes and not fill his mind with wishes and dreams that will never happen.

“Alrighty,” A voice says, and it takes Steve a second to realize that it’s Clint. Wow, the group was really fast. It’s almost as if they rushed… “We’re back, and we’ve brought food.”

Natasha sits up and snorts indignantly. “That’s what we were hoping you’d bring, babe.”

After they’ve all taken their seats and have their respective meals in front of them, the rest of the night goes smoothly. Steve ends up absolutely _loving_ the soup, which makes Clint feel like a proud father; even though Steve is older than him by over six months. There’s comfortable talk around the table during dinner, the dark night surrounding them and the light’s in the café courtyard illuminating their faces. Steve, despite his earlier conversation with Natasha and Maria, is happier than he’s been in a long time. He’s surrounded by his friends, by his _family_ , and he’s so overwhelmed by emotion he almost starts to cry.

They all take pictures to post on Instagram, which Steve will admit he took too many. 

Just as they finish eating, the fireworks begin to fly. At first, the sound of loud booming scares Steve, causing him to nearly drop his spoon in his bread bowl. But then, he sees the fireworks, and he’s _breathless_.

They’re… they’re _beautiful_. Filling the sky with an array of colors and sizes and shapes. The intricate designs and patterns are stunning; the rhythm of the booms mesmerizing. It’s just so _nice_.

“Whoa!” Steve nearly shouts over a mouthful of bread, pulling out his phone and beginning a video. He definitely wants to remember this moment. He records the fireworks until they are completely over, a content smile on his face the whole time. When he turns off the video and spins back in his chair to his regular seated position, he notices that all his friends have their phones out recording _him_.

“Guys…?” He asks tentatively, setting down his phone. They all lower their phones with wide grins on their faces, putting them away or back on the table.

“So, you like the fireworks here, Steve?” Sam questions, and Steve nods exaggeratedly.

“Uh huh! They’re so pretty! I mean, did you see them? God, it was so loud, but it was so cool too. It tied in with the music perfectly and—”

“Slow down Steve,” Sam’s laughing at his rambling, but Steve honestly couldn’t care less. He’s happy, surrounded by friends, completely fed, and he’s excited for the week(s) ahead.

___________________________________________________________

 

When they get back to the hotel later on that night, the group bids each other farewell at the door before splitting off and heading inside their respective rooms for the night. Once inside, Steve takes to the bathroom to change into his pajamas; his outfit exactly the same as the one he was wearing the night before: a gigantic t-shirt, boxers, and socks.

Taking off his shirt, he looks at his bruise. It has gotten more purple than it was this morning, but it’s not hurting… _yet_. It’s probably going to be hurting within a few days, but for right now he can still deal with it. And he can still make sure that Bucky won’t see it.

He finishes getting dressed and shuts off the light, before he steps out and stalks over to the closet and pulls out the giant clear plastic bag that he brought for his dirty laundry. He saves his jeans and places them on the couch arm, but he puts his shirt and socks in the bag. With a yawn, he puts the bag back into the closet and turns around, trying not to pop a boner on the spot.

Bucky is shirtless and in nothing but some sweatpants; lying on his back and giving Steve a full view of his torso and abs, nothing but miles and miles of golden tan and rippling muscles. He’s doing something on his phone, Steve notices, and he completely distracted; he hadn’t even heard Steve come out of the bathroom.

Without thinking, Steve walks across the room and flops down on Bucky’s bed, face first into the pillow next to the brunet.

Bucky startles at his sudden unannounced presence, but laughs when Steve groans into the pillow. As Steve raises his head, he sees Bucky quickly close a video on his phone and open up a gaming app.

“Oh my god,” Steve murmurs, half his face still smothering the pillow. “Were you watching porn?”

“Well,” Bucky suggests nonchalantly, making Steve shriek.

“ _Oh my god, Bucky!_ ” He makes fake gagging noises as he turns his body so he’s lying on his back. Bucky laughs loudly and turns off his phone, setting it down on those _fucking muscles_. “Were you seriously watching fucking _porn_?”

Steve turns his head just a tad to see Bucky prop his head up on his elbow, turning his body to face Steve. “Not… _exactly_ … something similar?”

Steve bursts out laughing, throwing his bony arm over his face to hide his blushing cheeks. His friend was watching _porn_ while he was changing in the bathroom. _God_ , when did his life become this?

When Steve finally calms down, they lie in silence for a while, doing nothing but stare at each other. With every second that passes, the air becomes more tense, and Steve feels like he’s losing oxygen. Bucky’s looking at him with an unreadable look, one that he’s noticed Bucky give him before. Steve never questioned it, but now, he feels like he might have to. And he unconsciously realizes that Bucky is sort of… leaning towards him. The brunet’s body is slowly but surely closing the distance between them, and before long, Steve is actually able to _feel_ the heat radiating off Bucky’s body.

Every instinct that he has is telling him to _move, fucking move._ He wants to be closer to that beautiful source of heat, and maybe… maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea, right?

But his brain has other ideas.

“Oh my gosh, I completely forgot!” Steve quickly turns and hops off the bed, Bucky’s outstretched hand going unnoticed; as well as Bucky’s split-second look of disappointment; that goes unnoticed too. He walks over to his bed and grabs his art bag, opening it up and pulling out his gift for Bucky.

Steve spins around to find Bucky turned on the bed and looking at him, a fond smile on his beautiful face. He hides his gift behind his back and slowly makes it to Bucky’s bedside, before he drops to his knees and becomes eye-level with his friend.

“I got you somethin’.” Steve declares.

“Hmm, you did now, huh?”

“Yep.” He answers, popping the ‘p’ and gracing his own face with a broad smile. He brings his hands around from behind his back and presents his gift to Bucky.

It’s not much really, if Steve’s being honest. He’s planning on getting more things for Bucky at Disneyland, but this toy… _this_ toy means a lot. It’s a small ‘Winnie the Pooh’ Tsum Tsum that he found in one of the Main Street shoppe’s on their way out of the park this evening. It’s a miniature Tsum Tsum, and for some people it may be considered stupid. But it has a lot of meaning for him. For the both of them.

When Bucky was twenty-four, he lost his left arm. It happened while Bucky was working at a car shop two blocks away from his current job location The Howling Commandos, and Steve still remembers the name of that godawful place. Hydra Mechanics, one of the best car repair shops in New York; it was probably one of the _worst_ ; the reviews were bad, the staff was downright rude, and the working environment was unsafe. Very unsafe. Bucky was fixing up an old ’68 Chevy Impala when his arm got stuck in-between the car and the car lift. The paramedics and Hydra staff managed to get the car off his arm, but by then it was too late. His arm was fucking _crushed_.

And Steve still remembers getting that phone call in the middle Peggy’s diner.

_“Hello?” Steve had answered warily, unfamiliar with the number._

_“_ **_Hello, is this Steven Rogers?_ ** _”_

_“Y-yeah, can I ask who you are?”_

_“_ ** _Steve my name is Dr. Morris, and I’m calling about James…_** ”

_Steve was out the door the second he heard his friend’s name, demanding answers right away. “What happened?”_

_“_ **_James has been in an… accident, and I was told by him to contact you right away._ ** _” Steve didn't even question the doctor on why Bucky didn’t call his parents first, he was too busy getting into his car and driving towards the hospital._

_“Tell him I’m on my way.”_

_“_ **_Sir, he’s being prepped for surgery._ ** _”_

_“I don’t care; you tell him that I am going to be there.” With that, he hung up and focused on driving, tears blurring his vision and making it almost impossible to drive. By some miracle, he made it to the hospital. Steve walked up to the front desk, giving his name and requesting his friend. A nurse finally stepped into view after what felt like year, and took him to an empty room in the hospital._

_“Where—”_

_“He’s in surgery right now, and it might be awhile unfortunately. You can make yourself comfortable here; this is where we are going to bring him after he’s done. Keep this tag with you just incase someone asks why you’re wandering the halls, if you choose to do so.” She left soon after, and Steve took a seat in one of the chairs next to the empty space where a hospital bed should be. He considered screaming, or crying, or both. He couldn't decide. He couldn't help but blame himself for this; he and Bucky both knew that Hydra had bad working conditions, and yet, he fucking did_ nothing.

_After one hour became two, Steve headed downstairs to the hospital lobby. He paced the halls; he paced the foodcourt; he paced the whole damn hospital. Until he saw the Gift Shoppe, and that made him stop dead in his tracks. In the window, he saw a small little ‘Winnie the Pooh’ plushie, and he felt a small smile grace his features. He didn't hesitate to buy it._

_When Bucky came out of surgery and finally woke up, he didn’t have an arm, but he had Steve and that adorable little yellow bear._

_That was all Bucky needed, and yet Steve had no idea how happy he had made Bucky in that moment._

_And Steve had brought that same bear to his second surgery, the one where he was going to finally have his metal arm attached to his body. Steve and that bear was all he needed._

_But, while he was in the last few day of his hospital stay, a family came into the hospital from a recent car wreck. The parents were uninjured, but their daughter was not. She had severe wounds, and had unfortunately lost both of her legs. That’s when Bucky looked over at Steve and simply mumbled, “You know what to do, Stevie.”_

_They made that little girl so happy with that bear, it was unbelievable. Steve’s heart broke over and over as he watched that girl smile and laugh and cry with that bear in her hands. He felt so bad for her, he couldn’t explain. But maybe… just maybe, that bear could bring some happiness back to her life._

Bucky intakes a short gasp, staring ahead at the small bear cupped in Steve’s hands. The brunet moves his metal arm to pick it up, then hesitates a half inch above the bear. Steve chuckles quietly and moves his hands just a little bit, a signal telling Bucky _‘You can grab it, it’s okay’_.

Steve watches as Bucky carefully picks up the bear and cradles it in his hand, the silver metal contrasting beautifully with the small little bear. Steve smiles and looks at Bucky’s face, only to see his friend’s continual stare at the bear and small tear slipping down his cheeks, and he suddenly feels like he fucked up.

“Crap, I’m sorry Buck, if ya don’t like it I can— _oof_.” Bucky surges forward in Steve’s direction and falls off the bed, but he immediately pulls the blond into his lap and into a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love it. Steve, I love it. Thank you.” Bucky mumbles into his neck, and he can feel hot tears running down his friend’s cheeks and onto his shoulder, but he doesn’t mind. He hugs Bucky back with all his strength and presses a kiss to his brown hair.

“You’re welcome, Buck.”

Steve’s _‘I love you’_ goes unsaid, and so does Bucky’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are some pics of the French Market ❤︎
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> I know it doesn't look like much, but the food is fucking fantastic. If anyone has had their food too, let me know, because I want to fangirl over food with you! XD
> 
>  
> 
> (Someone asked me for a visual of Bucky and Steve's hotel room, so here you guys go)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Just imagine that, on the other side of the dresser is a couch, and yeah. That's what it looks like :P
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **My Big News!! ******
> 
> **  
>   
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> **So, I made Instagram's for everyone in this story: i.e. Nat, Clint, Bucky etc etc. There, I will be posting pics from this trip, and you guys can see what they're up too. I will also use this Instagram for my other fics too (I will mark what fic each pic belongs to in the picture's comments section). Anyway, so yeah. Also, I made a Twitter account (link below). From there, I will be posting Tweets for fic release dates and such, so you guys can know ahead of time when a new fic is coming or if an update gets delayed. :)**  
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> **Click on the links and go follow!**  
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
>   
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> **  
> [Bucky’s Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/buckybear107/)  
>  **  
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
>   
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> **  
> [Steve’s Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/rogerssteve107/)  
>  **  
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
>   
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> **  
> [Natasha’s Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/natballet7/)  
>  **  
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
>   
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> **  
> [Clint’s Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/clinttbarton/)  
>  **  
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
>   
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> **  
> [Maria’s Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/hilltopmars38/)  
>  **  
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
>   
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> **  
> [Sam’s Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/sammywillllson/)  
>  **  
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
>   
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> **Come follow me on[Tumblr](http://jaybird6232.tumblr.com/)**  
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
>   
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> **My[Twitter](https://twitter.com/jaybird6232?lang=en) **  
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
>   
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> **I truly hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Be sure to leave a comments/kudos if you liked it, because you guys keep me writing. I love you all! See you next chapter, my lovelies! ❤︎**  
>  **


	4. Day Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time seems to stop for Steve. The world stops spinning, people stop talking, birds stop singing. The only thing that moves is Steve’s heart, when it cracks in two. It’s a hard slap in the face that he really should have seen coming. Of _course_ Bucky found someone. Of fucking _course_. His vision loses focus as Bucky’s words slowly chip away at the tendrils that hold Steve’s heart together. _‘There’s only one person I’ve got my eyes on. Everyone else doesn’t matter’_. Steve hears that perfectly clear, yet his ears translate it to: _‘I love someone and it sure as hell isn’t Steve Rogers. He doesn’t matter’_. But can Steve really expect any different? It’s a knife in the heart, a punch to the chest, a hard realization that he is _nothing_. Absolutely _nothing_. He will never be anything that is worth a smidgen Bucky’s love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy, look who's back from the dead....
> 
> Nope, I didn't abandon this story. I will never do that, promise. I was in a bit of a slum, and my writer's block and procrastinating tendencies didn't help at all in the slightest. For all of you who are sticking with me and my terrible updating times, I want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart!!
> 
> And I am super sorry for not updating sooner?? Like, how?? I actually hate myself, it's not even funny. *sigh*
> 
> Welp, I'm here now. I was reading over the older chapters of this story and actually wanted to punch myself. IT'S SO PLAIN. GAH. SO PLAIN. That being said, I dived deeper into Steve's head and mindset, so hopefully it's acceptable.
> 
> Again, thank you all for reading and putting up with me :D
> 
> [If you haven't already, check out Bucky's POV [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10726476/chapters/23769120)]
> 
> Hope y'all like this chapter!! Any and all mistakes are my own :P

Steve rises slowly from sleep, nuzzling into his pillow and trying to ignore the blaring emanating from his alarm. He’s warm, comfortable, and content, but his phone doesn’t seem to care about how he currently feels. When he doesn't turn it off after a few moments, it goes on snooze automatically and he silently cheers. _Yes. Five more minutes._

His eyes begin to droop again, his vision becoming blurry and hazy as sleep begins to take over again. Cuddling deeper into his pillow, Steve is nearly asleep again when his pillow suddenly _moves_ . By _itself_. Steve freezes in his place, sinking into the mattress as his pillow groans, adjusting its position before… falling back asleep?

Carefully, with slow and tentative movements, Steve raises his head and opens his eyes, trying to figure out why his pillow has suddenly come to life. His eyes crawl up familiar rows of abdominal muscles, roaming over the smooth tan skin underneath him. Steve doesn't have to look any further than the metal arm to realize that Bucky is his pillow. _Bucky._ Steve is curled into his side, his head resting on Bucky’s muscular chest and their legs intertwined beneath the sheets, no space between their bodies at all. Literally. _None._ Steve's arms are wrapped around Bucky's midsection, holding on sleepily while Bucky's flesh arm is wrapped around his shoulders tightly, holding Steve’s tiny body protectively as he swims through the realm of dreams.

Instead of wondering _why_ or _how_ he got here in the first place, Steve instead takes the time to admire the work of art fast asleep beside him. Bucky looks and feels so damn _good_ in the morning, his hair tousled messily, his body warm and reassuring. Steve isn't tired anymore. In fact, he's never been more awake. Steve’s eyes continue their journey up his friend’s half-naked body, his mouth sucking in a sharp breath as he lays his gaze on Bucky’s face.The brunet’s plump, red lips are parted slightly, and Steve has the sudden strong urge to kiss them. They look _too damn kissable, and it’s not even fair._ Bucky’s probably kissed plenty of people with those gorgeous lips, and Steve’s heart pangs hurtfully at the thought. Everyone can kiss those lips _except_ him. Everyone can be with Bucky _except_ him. And Bucky would be with anyone _except_ him.

And knowing that fact just fucking _kills_ him.

He doesn’t even remember falling asleep, yet here he is, pressed up against Bucky exactly how he’s always imagined it would be. Warm, safe, cozy, comfortable, _normal_ . But surely that’s not the case, nor will it ever be the case. This isn’t _normal_ , and unfortunately, much to Steve’s disappointment, this will _never_ be normal. Not for him at least.

But… this could be normal for Bucky. To have the one you love wrapped up in your arms every morning, waking up to their adorably cute sleeping face. To wake them up with a tender kiss, or even something _more_ . But Steve's _in the way_ of Bucky’s future, and it destroys him inside knowing that he has to accept it. He knows that Bucky _always_ pretends to enjoy his presence, because _who_ would want to be around Steve so often? _No one._ Bucky makes excuses to skip his dates to spend more time with Steve, saying that he would _“rather hang out with you than go on a stupid date, Stevie”_ . What a _liar._

Steve isn't _fun_ to hang out with or spend time with. He's a dork and an idiot and sticks his nose in everyone's business, which is usually why he's always getting beat up. That's another thing. He's a _liability_ to his friends, not only Bucky. Steve gets beat up more often than not, gets sick on a regular basis, and… he's… he’s just _Steve_. Nothing special. Nothing important. Nothing worth loving.

Steve is… just Steve. He's a skinny little pain in the ass with a hopeless crush and no hope for finding love. What's the point of love when the person you _love with your entire soul_ doesn't love you back? It's simple logic. _There is no point._

His eyes roam Bucky's half-naked appearance, following the line of muscles until they disappear under the sheets. It's common knowledge that Bucky is jacked from head to toe with muscle, but having the brunet shirtless and literally pressed up against him, Steve finally understands that his friend is truly _fucking ripped_ . Layers and layers of muscle splay across Bucky's torso, rippling in a soft, golden tan from this past summer. As hard as Steve tries, he can't look away. Not that he'd want to anyways, oh no. The sight is beautiful and exquisite, an Adonis of humanity. Bucky is a fucking _god_.

That reminds him. Steve is… just Steve. Simple, _worthless_ little Steve. He’s ugly. Hates the way his body looks. Hates the way he laughs. Hates the way his bones stick out against his pale flesh. Hates the way his eyes linger on Bucky, his friend’s existence taunting him of the one person he wants more than anything, yet can’t have. Because he’s only _Steve_.

Someone like him does not _get_ a happy ending, it’s not possible in any form of reality. The world would end before Steve could ever work up the courage to tell Bucky that he loves him more than he’s ever loved anyone or anything.

Steve knows that he can’t change the way he looks. The way he acts. The way he talks, sings, dances, lives his _life_ . However, he can’t and _won’t_ change that, because even though he hates the way he is, no one else has the right to hate him except himself. If someone wants to be with him, it will be because they look past his flaws and rough edges and maybe, just _maybe_ , see something in him that he can’t see for himself.

That is only wishful thinking though, Steve knows. He’s come to accept the fact that he will most likely end up alone in this life, completely without requited love. To Steve, love doesn’t seem worth anything if Bucky isn’t the one he’s loving. Bucky has had Steve’s heart in his hand since they met as infants, and when the brunet goes off to continue his life with a man who _is_ worth his love, he’ll take Steve’s broken heart with him. And Steve would let him. Oh god, he would let him if it meant that Bucky would have a good life. He’ll do anything to make sure that Bucky finds happiness, even if it means losing his own.

As the old saying goes, if you love someone, let them go. If they return to you, it was meant to be. If they don’t, their love was never yours to begin with.

Maybe… for Bucky’s sake… maybe it’s time that Steve… simply… let… him… _go_ …

_No_ , his brain screams as Steve fights back tears, looking up to Bucky’s peacefully sleeping face, his friend completely oblivious to his internal peril. _No you can’t let him go, Rogers. You know you can’t. You’d fucking_ die _and you know it. You can’t let him walk out of your life Steve. You can’t. You just— fuck, you can’t! Who is going to tell you shitty jokes at three a.m. when you can’t fall asleep? Who is going to accompany you to your mother’s grave every other Saturday? Who is going to make sure you take a break from painting and drawing to fucking eat something? Who is going to hold you when all your pent up emotions burst like a dam, leaving you in a crying mess? Who Rogers, who?!_

_Well, it’s not going to be anyone if you drive him away. You know that you’ll regret it if you pull a dumbass stunt like that._

Steve can’t help but feel like he’s getting a lecture from his mother, even though this fight is between him and himself. Steve sighs quietly, opening the eyes he hadn’t realized he had closed. Despite there being no physical space between them, Steve cuddles impossibly closer to Bucky’s body and rests his head back atop Bucky’s chest, humming in content at the pleasant feeling. _This feels so nice._ Steve can’t let go. He’s being selfish and denying Bucky the happiness he deserves, but it’s just too _hard_ for Steve to let go. He… he has no idea what to do anymore.

With Bucky sleeping quietly beneath him, the artist buried deep within Steve emerges unexpectedly. Before he can stop himself, his fingers are softly tracing the outlines of Bucky’s abs, his featherlight touches nothing but soft brushes of skin against skin. It’s so smooth, smoother than Steve has ever dreamed. The pads of his fingers run over every bulge of muscle, mapping and memorizing every curve. The faint sound of his alarm pushes through his head space, announcing that his five minutes are up and that he needs to get ready to go to Disneyland. Only, Steve doesn’t turn it off. He isn’t capable of doing anything except breathe at the moment, and he is still having trouble doing just that. The alarm runs its course before it shuts off automatically again, buzzing angrily on the bedside table.

His mind is elsewhere, flying through the drawings he keeps stored in his thoughts as his fingers continue to absentmindedly ‘draw’ on Bucky’s torso. It’s for… uh, _science_ . All he is thinking at the moment is that he _needs_ to get this on paper. Although he knows that he could never do it justice, Steve would at least like to try, because Bucky’s nothing but perfect. An amazing human being with a good heart and caring soul. He’s everything that Steve could ever hope and dream for in a lover. He’s— _awake_.

“Mornin’ Stevie,” A husky, sleep-ridden voice says suddenly, completely bringing Steve out of his mind and back to the real world. It's none other than _Bucky's_ voice. _Shit, he's awake!_

Steve’s hand freezes in place as he snaps his gaze towards Bucky, half-expecting to come face-to-face with a look of anger and disgust. How could he expect anything different? Bucky just caught Steve rubbing his _abs,_ like it was a completely _normal_ thing for them. Friends don't rub each other’s _abs_ , that's… it’s not a usual occurrence, much to Steve’s dismay. Fear clouds Steve’s mind instantly, unsure of how to react if Bucky calls him out on his absentminded ‘ab-rubbing’. Looking upon Bucky's face for signs of rejection and hate, what he finds instead throws his mindset in a loop.

Bucky is _smirking_ at him, his eyes half-lidded and hazy with remnants of sleep lurking on the surface. Those beautiful blue-grey orbs stare back at him with such intensity that Steve can’t help but squirm a little. The arm around his shoulders tightens, and if Steve thought that there wasn’t any space between them before, there _definitely_ isn’t now.

“Why’d ya stop?” Bucky questions when Steve doesn’t answer after a few seconds. Steve has no idea _how_ to answer. Bucky doesn’t seem upset or putoff at all, which leaves Steve with more questions than answers. Surely Bucky isn’t suggesting what he thinks he is… right? No, that’s not a possibility. Stupid Steve, always forgetting his place.

“Huh?” Steve answers dumbly, beginning to feel the heat of a blush taking control of his body, covering his face and neck with a scarlet tinge. Bucky sleepily nudges his head to his torso, where Steve’s hand still rests frozen in place, and replies, “That. You know….”

Steve follows Bucky’s line of sight and immediately pulls his hand off of Bucky’s torso, tucking it in-between their bodies and blushing even harder. Steve doesn’t know how to feel or what to do. Bucky still has that stupid, gorgeous smirk on his face, so he doesn’t _seem_ mad, but that makes no logical sense at all. There is _no way_ that Bucky enjoyed any of Steve’s ‘ab-rubbing’, it’s not possible. It’s _Steve_ of all people doing it, so there is absolutely, positively, no chance of there ever being a universe where Bucky doesn’t mind Steve’s intrusion of personal space.

“Sorry.” Steve mutters out, tucking himself deeper into Bucky’s side and hiding deep-red his face.

“Hey, I’m not mad, Stevie.” Bucky says, rubbing his hand down Steve’s back in a comforting manner. “I actually liked it. Felt nice. Kinda tickled a little, but it felt good. Real good.”

Bucky’s little _‘real good’_ at the end of his statement comes out as nothing more than a breathless sigh of content, and that alone makes Steve direct his gaze back to his friend. Only to find Bucky looking right back at him. Bucky’s pupils are wider than they usually are, so promising and expressive that Steve wants to cry. It’s moments like this when a sliver of doubt seeps into his mind, making him question whether or not Bucky could actually, on some odd chance, reciprocate his feelings. Very, _very_ wishful thinking, because there’s no way, and he knows that better than anyone. It’s just… it’s like Bucky is unknowingly _teasing_ him, trying to tempt the belief of equal love on both sides of the equation when Steve knows that it’s not possible.

Bucky doesn’t _love_ him. He never has and never will. Steve is not _worth_ Bucky's love, and he won't be as long as he lives. So, being as oblivious as he is, Steve makes himself believe that Bucky's enlarged pupils are only because the room is still partially dark; the cloudy sunlight barely peaking through the curtains. Yeah. That's it.

“What’cha thinkin’ in yer pretty lil’ head, Stevie?” Bucky mutters quietly, using his metal hand to tip Steve's face upwards, their eyes meeting again. Bucky's thumb traces over the sharp line of Steve’s cheekbone slowly as he quirks his eyebrow.

“I ain't got a pretty head, you dork.” Steve retorts, not answering Bucky's original question. Now Bucky is definitely playing games with Steve’s feelings. Calling Steve pretty. Saying he doesn't mind it when he touches him. Pulling their half-dressed bodies together so that they're pressed up against each other exactly how a _couple_ would be.

_He doesn't mean it,_ Steve tells himself. _He doesn't love you, you idiot. He could never love you, have you forgotten that?_

The hand on his cheek freezes, Bucky's stare intense and hard. Determined. Steve can also see a hint of disbelief in Bucky's beautiful grey orbs, but he doesn't know why it's there. “Steve.”

Steve is about to open his mouth to question Bucky's serious tone, but before he can, his phone goes off again. This time, the sound of the theme song from _‘Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’_ goes off, and Steve knows right away that it's a call from Clint. He sits up in the bed, bringing the phone to his ear as the sheets pool around his waist. “Heyo Stevemiester,” Clint bellows over the line, causing Steve to flinch uncomfortably at the loud noise.

“Hey asshole,” Steve yawns and runs a hand through his hair, trying to tame his bedhead. He's hyperaware of the feeling of Bucky's flesh arm wrapping around his waist, using the leverage to hoist himself into a seated position as well.

“Aww, did I wake up little _Stevie?_ ” Clint teases, and Steve can practically hear his smile.

“No ya didn't.” Yet Steve yawns one more time, making Clint laugh loudly. Bucky nudges his side, tilting his head towards Steve's phone. _‘Who is it?’_

_‘Clint.’_ Steve mouths back.

_‘Ah, okay.’_ Bucky replies, moving the covers off his lap and standing up. He walks around the bed, his plump, perfect ass moving in such a way that Steve is instantly mesmerized. Distracted.

“Steve. Stevo. Bud, you there?”

Right. He's still on the phone. 

“Y-yeah, sorry. Got a little… uh, never mind. What's up?”

“Bad news. Sam text me a couple of minutes ago and said that from now and on, no more Starbucks during the trip.”

“And that's bad news because…?” Sure, Starbucks is great and all, but it's not that big of a deal if they don't go again during the trip. That's fine with Steve, because it means more money for souvenirs. And besides, he likes the coffee and tea from Peggy’s shoppe better anyways.

“What?! How can you be okay with that?! Steve!” Clint exclaims loudly, clearly unhappy with Steve's nonchalance towards the situation. Oh that’s right, he forgot about Clint’s obsession of Starbucks… oops. Steve hears Natasha yelling at Clint in the background, before the line crackles and her voice comes on.

“Hey Steven, sorry about that. Clint’s throwing a tantrum because he doesn't get to have a fucking frappuccino. There’s too much sugar in those anyways.”

_“Shut up, Nat!”_ Clint yells in the background, to which Natasha responds, _“Well get out of the corner and stop crying then!”_

Natasha clears her throat before coming back. “Hmm. Sorry about that, again. Anyways, basically what's going on is that if we get Starbucks everyday for the next two weeks, it's going to total Sam about seven hundred dollars for all of us, even though we insisted we could pay for ourselves. He said no.”

“Holy fuck.”

“Exactly.” Natasha agrees. “I guess when he was booking this cheap-ass hotel, he also completely looked over the part where it says _‘free breakfast’_.”

“You're joking.”

“I wish I was. Anyways… so no more Starbucks. Hotel breakfast instead. Sound good?” 

_“No, it doesn't.”_ Clint hollers.

_“No one asked you, Barton.”_ Natasha replies.

“Guys,” Steve groans, falling back on the bed. He can't help but admit that it's colder without Bucky beside him. _Stop it, he’s not coming back._ “Stop fighting already. Are we meeting downstairs for breakfast then?”

“Yeah. We’ll see you in an hour.”

“Okay. See ya soon, Nat.”

Steve is about to hang up when Natasha yells for him to wait. _“What.”_

“Let Bucky know.”

“I was going to!” Steve laughs disbelievingly.

“Well, do it now or else you're going to forget. I know you too well, Steven.”

“ _Ugh_ , fine.” Steve groans, turning his head in the direction of the bathroom. He hopes Bucky hasn't gotten in the shower yet, because seeing Bucky soaking wet does… wonderful yet torturous things to him… and his body. “Bucky!”

Bucky clambers out of the bathroom, the sound of the shower pouring through the open door behind him. His sweatpants are still on, and Steve sighs in relief. Good. No sudden boner attacks in the near future.

“Everything okay, Stevie?” Bucky asks, concern lacing his voice as he takes a seat next to Steve.

“Yeah,” Steve swallows hard. “Nat just said no more Starbucks ‘till the trip’s over. It's too expensive. We’re eating here instead.”

Bucky hums in response, not moving from the bed. He seems to be contemplating something; however, Steve is too nervous to ask. But when Bucky makes his decision after sometime lost in thought, Steve doesn't know whether to cry or scream or do anything at all.

It happens all at once. Steve lifts his phone back up to his ear to speak with Natasha again when Bucky leans over and presses a soft, lasting kiss on his cheek before whispering _“Thanks for letting me know, Stevie”_ and rising from the bed.

Steve is frozen in shock because _Bucky just fucking kissed him_. Bucky's lips are as smooth as he’s always imagined they would be, plump and full and wonderful. A hot blush takes over his entire body in a few seconds flat, covering every inch of his pale skin in a rosy-red tint. Following Bucky’s masculine figure until it disappears into the bathroom again, Steve lets out a shaky breath as he tries to gather his composure.

Bucky just _kissed_ him. What the _fuck_ ? Sure, it's not like Steve hasn't wished for it before but… _what??_

“Steven, you there? Everything okay?” Natasha’s voice has concern written all over it.

No. Everything is definitely not okay. Remember when he said something about no boner attacks in the near future? Scratch that, he can already feel himself swelling up underneath the sheets.

“I, uh, y-yeah.” Steve clears his throat. “I'm… not fine. N-Nat, he just, he… what the fuck.”

“Spit it out Steve, what’s going on?”

“He just… Bucky just… _kissed_ me. Nat, what the fuck is going on?”

Natasha is silent for a few seconds before she squeals loudly. _“Oh my god!_ Steve! Are you guys finally together?!”

“… what are you talking about?”

“You and Bucky! You're… wait, do you… oh… oh my god. Fucking shit. Forget I said anything.”

“Okay…” Steve drawls out, completely lost on where this conversation is going. What does Natasha mean by _“finally together”_ ? Is there something that she knows that he doesn't? Is there something that he _should_ know?

The rest of the morning goes on awkwardly. Steve ends the phone call with Natasha, leaving himself alone in bed with an aching cock and a troubled mind. Questions cloud his thoughts and leave him utterly clueless. If Natasha is implying what Steve _thinks_ she's implying, then Steve has no idea how he is going to survive this trip with the idea of Bucky and him being in a relationship taunting him every second of the day, even when he knows it's not a possibility.

_Get it together Rogers. Quit forgetting your place. You’re not good enough._

___________________________________________________________

 

Steve does his best to forget about the unexpected kiss from Bucky this morning. Neither of them bring it up, so it seems fit that Steve dismisses it completely (even though he knows that he will _never_ be able to forget about it). He doesn't mention it. Bucky doesn't mention it. So everything should be fine, right? _Wrong_.

The thing is, a part of Steve _wants_ Bucky to bring it up, but his friend acts as if it never happened. Bucky doesn't say anything when he gets out of the shower. He doesn't say anything when they go downstairs for breakfast. He doesn't say anything when they get in the car or when they enter the park. He never says anything about it at all.

It shouldn't be bothering Steve as much as it is, but it does. It really fucking does. He wants to be sure that he didn't only imagine it, that he isn't crazy. Bucky kissed him and now it's all he can think about. But it seems apparent Bucky isn't thinking about it because _he's not saying anything_.

Yet, the other part of Steve doesn't want Bucky to bring it up either. If his blushing face won't give his feelings away, then his stutter and hurried speech will. Sure, they’ve given each other platonic kisses before, on the temple and forehead, but never on the face. This is different. Something about this is different, yet Steve can’t put a finger on it. The hopeful part of his mind tells him that Bucky kissed him because he _wanted to._ But that simply can’t be, it’s not possible. No way.

With that in mind, Steve wills himself to push Bucky's perfect lips into the back of his thoughts and focus his attention on Disneyland instead. With his bag checked and ticket scanned, Steve takes a deep breath and steps through the turnstile, following his friends to Main Street. He’s going to try his hardest to forget about it, for the benefit of everyone… yeah. Yeah, that’s it.

“Oh c’mon Steve,” Sam laughs loudly at Steve’s ride choice, which is unsurprisingly Pirates of the Caribbean, again. “We went on that ride three times yesterday!”

“You’re no fun,” Steve pouts, crossing his arms defiantly. Bucky chuckles at his childish attitude and interrupts the conversation, “You guys go on ahead, I’ll go with him.”

“You sure man?” Clint questions as he slips his arm around Natasha’s waist and pulls her closer to his body, and she immediately melts into his embrace, angling her face just a bit to catch his lips in a sweet kiss. Steve’s friends keep talking, and Steve tries to keep his mind set on the conversation at hand, but he can’t. He’s slipping back into the dark patches of his mind that he was just trying to get out of.

Steve tries.

He really does.

But damn him, he’s jealous.

All his friends have perfect, wonderful relationships. They’ve got someone who loves them and that they love back. They’ve got someone who does stupid shit to annoy the other because they know that they’ll get a laugh out of it. They’ve got someone who takes care of them when they’re sick; someone who deals with their bad moods or stressed attitude. They’ve got someone who they can cuddle with, and kiss and hug and… someone who loves them… and someone who they can call their _“one and only”_ … forever… is that too much to ask?

Yes actually, it is.

Because who would want to date a skinny little asthmatic who’s danced with death too many times than he’d willingly like to admit? Who would want to date someone who is a loose cannon and get into more alley fights than he can count? Who wants to be with someone who can collapse into a heap of lifeless bones in less than a second? Sure, he’s doing much better now than he was in his past, but, still?

Who would want to date someone who gets into more fights than he can actually handle, and always has to rely on the pity of his oppressor or the rescue from his friend? Honestly, who? _Who_ in their right mind would want to date someone like him?

Nobody.

His appearance isn’t flattering, for one. No one would want to be with someone who is as physically unattractive as Steve. When he’s not wearing a shirt, you can see all of his little ribs jutting out against the expanse of his creamy skin. It doesn’t go unnoticed the way his clavicle is visible at all times, or the way his hipbones shout out their existence. Natasha says that it’s attractive and that people totally _‘dig it’_ , but he knows that that isn’t true.

For another thing, he’s stubborn _and_ a pain in the ass. When he wants something done, he gets it done. It doesn’t matter what anyone says or does to stop him, he’ll do it anyway. Someone’s taking advantage of a poor girl at a bar who’s just trying to have a good time with her friends? Boom. He’s fighting with the bastard in the alleyway.

He’s all over the place. None of this makes sense. _He_ doesn’t make sense. His very _existence_ doesn’t make _any_ fucking sense but somehow, by some miracle, he has friends who actually care about him and his well being. Especially his best friend, Bucky Barnes, who he wishes was more than just his friend.

“ _Yes_ , I’m sure. You guys go ahead, seriously.” Bucky’s voice snaps him out of his clouded mind, and Steve looks up, only to see his friend looking back down at him.

“You good with that?” The brunet questions, and Steve can only nod.

“Ye-yeah, sure okay.” He honestly has no idea what he’s agreeing to, because he wasn’t listening at all, but sure, whatever.

“Great!” Bucky enthuses. “You guys want to meet back up at around one so we can grab some lunch?”

Maria nods, slipping her hand into Sam’s and tugging her boyfriend close. Steve’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t notice Natasha lean in and whisper something in Bucky’s ear, which causes the latter to send her a smirk and a shake of his head.

Before his friends leave, Maria comes over to him and wraps him up in a hug. Squeezing him tight, she leans down and whispers, _“Make a move”_ to which he responds, _“Fuck you.”_

Maria laughs light-heartedly, giving Steve one final squeeze before letting him go and walking over to Sam. The four of his friends wave goodbye, Natasha throwing a smirk towards him and Bucky before turning around and disappearing in the crowd.

“You ready, Stevie?”

“Huh?”

Bucky laughs, tilting his head back and exposing his throat. “To go on the ride ya wanted.”

“Wait, really?” Steve instantly perks up, a huge grin breaking onto his face. Bucky nods, suddenly slipping his hand into Steve’s, making the blond blush and look down at their intertwined fingers. _Huh, so this is new._ His blush deepens to a dark crimson as he turns to look up at his friend. “Wha-?”

Bucky smirks, bringing Steve’s hand up to his plush lips and… oh my god, fucking _kissing_ _the back of his fucking hand_. Steve nearly faints. _First the kiss on the cheek this morning, and now this. What kind of joke is this, Barnes?_  Bucky winks at him, completely oblivious to the war raging in Steve’s mind. “I don’t want us to get separated in this crowd.”

“Sap,” Steve somehow manages to speak like a normal human being. He knows that he’s probably flushed red from head to toe, a doe-eyed expression lining his face. And Bucky can obviously see it, the bastard is fucking smirking, so Steve knows that he’s not doing a good job at hiding his emotions.

He also notices that, compared to the street, the curb is rather… empty. Yet here they are, still walking at a leisurely pace and holding hands. Bucky’s excuse was because he didn’t want them to get separated in the crowd. But… what _crowd??_ Steve doesn't complain about his newly found realization; in fact, he tightens his grip on Bucky’s flesh hand. If Bucky is going to hold his hand and be okay with it, he’s sure as hell going to make the most of it. However, being the way he is, he blushes harder and opts to turn away, looking forward to look at the castle and completely missing the blush that takes over Bucky’s face. As well as the small smile that plays on his friend’s lips.

When he is calm enough, Steve turns his attention back to his friend and begins to pick up a conversation. They start out slow, talking about anything and everything that will help eliminate the awkwardness in the air. _He still hasn’t brought up that fucking kiss,_ Steve notes sadly, but then chastises himself. _Of course he’s not going to bring up the kiss, you idiot. Bucky surely doesn’t want to remember that mistake_. That’s all Steve is, and ever will be. A mistake.

_No,_ the other part of his brain fights. _You are not a mistake, Steven. He’s just waiting for_ **_you_ ** _to say something._

…… That can’t be true, could it?

“Oh my god, Steve finally! I knew you were gonna want one of those,” Bucky exclaims, tightening his grip on Steve’s hand in a moment of joy. At some point during their walk, Steve had casually brought up that he wanted to purchase an ear hat, trying to alleviate the awkwardness in the air. It seems to have done a good job. “Do you know which one you want?”

“Well I… well no, not really, I haven’t really… uh, looked at ‘em closely.”

“There’s tons of options Stevie, you’ll find one that calls out to ya.”

Bucky explains every ear hat that he can recall from memory with extreme detail, telling Steve which ones are the most durable and which ones to steer clear from. Then he talks about the ‘headband ears’, as Steve likes to call them. As Bucky continues to ramble on about the famed accessory, Steve loses himself in the conversation, choosing instead to admire his friend’s enthusiasm towards the subject. Bucky is so adorable when he is given the opportunity to voice his interests. Bucky happily promises that he will take Steve to the Mad Hatter shoppe to find him some Mickey Ears, and Steve delightfully agrees. He doesn’t know what the Mad Hatter shoppe is, but he’d go anywhere with Bucky, if Bucky would let him.

Oh, the stupid things people do when they’re in love.

___________________________________________________________

 

“Bucky, churros don’t count as lunch.”

“Yes they do.”

“No, they really don’t.”

“Shut up, Steve.”

Steve rolls his eyes, laughing as Bucky pulls out his wallet. It’s around one o’clock at the moment, and Steve and Bucky are waiting for the rest of their friends to meet up with them by The Haunted Mansion. So far, they’ve gone on a few rides that Steve has quite enjoyed.

Thunder Mountain Railroad was much more fun than he expected, and the ride gave him all the ample opportunities to get close to Bucky. Very close. With every sharp turn and sudden drop, they were sliding into each other, the lack of separation in the seat allowing their bodies to touch every second. He especially liked the way Bucky would keep his arm around his shoulders, holding him tightly and never letting go. Yes. He really liked that.

Their most recent ride, The Haunted Mansion, was another ride that Steve took a liking to. It was cold inside the attraction, so Steve took that as an excuse to cuddle closer to Bucky and his body heat. Of course… that was totally the only reason… yeah.

“C’mon Stevie, try a bite.” Bucky complains with a pout. Steve raises an eyebrow, trying to ignore the fact that Bucky just looks so damned cute when he makes that face.

“That’s way too much sugar.” Steve tries, but he knows that he’s not going to win this.

Bucky scoffs, pulling Steve away from the cart and back towards the exit of the Haunted Mansion, aka the meetup spot. Steve smiles despite himself, looking down at their joined hands. That’s another thing. Bucky has been grabbing his hand _a lot_ today, not that he’s complaining, oh no. He’s enjoying it, for a matter of fact. Steve hasn’t once asked Bucky to let go, nor does he plan on it.

It feels… it feels intimate, to say the least. Strong. Passionate. Unwavering. Good and pure. Just fucking _nice_ in general. Having Bucky hold his hand makes him believe that, maybe in some crazy universe, they could actually be together. That maybe Bucky could like him back, possibly even love him.

_You’re shitting me, right Rogers? He could never, EVER love you. That’s a real piece of fuckin’ work that you’re conjuring up, you know that Steve? Have you taken a good long look at yourself? You’re nothing. Nothing at all. You aren’t worth the effort._ Steve shakes his head, remembering himself. What he was just imagining, a life together… that’s nothing but wishful thinking. Bucky can’t possibly like him back. No way. Someone like Bucky could never love someone like Steve. That's just how the world spins around.

“Oh please Steve, like you’re one to talk.” Bucky snorts, clearly not believing his lie. “You eat Frosted Flakes and pop tarts in the morning.”

“Pop tarts are _amazing_ , fuck off.”

Bucky sighs, looking down at him as they walk. Steve looks up and stares back, telling himself that the darkened, hungry gaze in Bucky’s eyes isn’t real. “Please Stevie? For me?”

And how could Steve ever say no to a face like that?

Looking between Bucky and the churro, Steve groans dramatically, “ _Ughh,_ fine.” He lifts his other hand to grab the churro, but Bucky shakes his head, raising his arm and holding the sweet treat up to his lips. Steve gulps shallowly, his pale face engulfing in flames as he leans forward an inch to take a bite and _holy fuck_.

This churro has definitely just made his list of favorite food items from Disneyland. It’s sweet. Warm and crunchy and really, really good. Against his own accord, Steve moans in content, closing his eyes and licking the sugar from his lips. When he opens his eyes, Bucky swallows hard and looks away, coughing to clear his throat. “S-so, you like it?”

Steve hums, licking his lips again. “Uh huh.”

Bucky straightens up, turning his body away so they can continue walking. “Told you.”

“You’re a bad influence, Buck.”

“Y-you say that, yet you enjoy it.”

Steve snorts, looking away from Bucky and instead looks down at their hands again. With every second that passes, he’s reminded of what he can’t have. Bucky. The one person that he wants. His opportunity is literally in his hand, yet he can’t grasp it. He knows deep in his heart that Bucky deserves better than what he can offer him, and it kills him to be reminded of that fact.

“You want another bite, Stevie?”

“Nah, I’m good Buck. Thanks though.”

They don’t say anything more as they walk the small distance to the meetup spot. _He still hasn’t brought up the kiss..._ All their friends are standing there, talking amicably in a circle as they wait for Steve and Bucky to arrive. Except for Clint, who is obliviously tapping away on his phone. Oh, this is perfect.

Steve grins mischievously, loosening the grip on Bucky’s hand. “Steve… I know what you’re thinkin’… don’t do it.”

“I’m doing it.”

“Steve no.”

_“Steve yes.”_ Sending Bucky a sly wink, he lets go of Bucky’s hand and runs in the direction of their friends. Once he’s close enough, he leaps from the ground and onto Clint’s back, earning a dignified shriek in return. Steve’s arms wrap around Clint’s shoulders with a death grip, and the latter grabs at his legs to keep Steve from falling flat on the ground.

“What the _fuck._ Steve, you little shit.” Clint groans. He tries to set Steve down, but Steve just holds him tighter. Steve has done this before, several times actually, and it's kind of become a thing for the two of them. Serves Clint right for beating Steve's Candy Crush high score. “Get down.”

“Carry me.”

“Rogers, get down.”

“No. Carry me.” Steve repeats childishly.

“ _Jesus Christ_ , you’re annoying.” Clint says, but there’s no heat behind it. “Can’t you have Barnes carry ya? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” Steve blushes at Clint’s teasing comment, choosing to keep quiet and not voice his opinion. Well, of course he’d enjoy Bucky carrying him, but this was supposed to be a joke on Clint, not Bucky. There’s absolutely no way that Bucky would want to—  

“Nope! Don’t mind at all.” _Shit, wait. No no no._ “C’mon Stevie, I’ll carry ya.” Comes Bucky’s voice behind him. Steve watches as Bucky hands off his churro, his precious _churro_ , to Natasha, who grins happily and takes a secretive bite. Brushing the sugar from his hands on the seat of his pants, Bucky winks at Steve as he strides over, turning around and presenting his back. His strong, muscle ridden, gorgeous back. In a careful and precisioned exchange, Steve is now tentatively holding onto Bucky’s defined shoulders, his legs being held up by Bucky’s hands. What was meant to be a joke on Clint has now gotten him in a boner-popping predicament that he selfishly admits he’s enjoying.

“Let’s go, Casanova.” Sam pats Bucky’s shoulder and leads them all away from The Haunted Mansion. _Shit shit shit, this wasn't supposed to happen._ It takes Steve a few seconds to calm down and relax in Bucky’s hold. _Easy Rogers, relax._

Natasha makes a delightful squeal when she spots the Winnie-the-Pooh ride a few yards away. Piglet, Winnie-the-Pooh’s best friend, was Natasha’s favourite character growing up. She always carried around a small plushie when she was young, and if Steve remembers correctly, she still has that same plushie sitting on a shelf in her apartment.

“Oh. My. Gosh. It’s _so_ cute! Maria c’mon!” Grabbing her friend’s hand, the two girls take off towards the ride. The four men stand (well, technically only three are standing. Steve is on Bucky piggy-back style) and watch them run off with no intention of following. Maria and Natasha like Winnie-the-Pooh, but the boys… not so much. Steve wouldn’t mind going on it, to be completely honest. Both he and Bucky have a special connection with the honey-loving bear, yet it just doesn’t feel right sharing it with everyone else. If they go, it should be just them.

“Barnes, you coming?” Sam calls out, making both Steve and Bucky turn their heads in the direction of their friend’s voice.

“Where are we going?” Bucky asks, taking a few steps forward and falling into line with Sam and Clint. Steve holds onto Bucky tightly, resting his head on the brunet’s shoulder comfortably. _This feels so nice._ The grips that Bucky’s hands have on Steve’s thighs in downright sinful, and Steve uses all his willpower to keep himself from moaning happily. Bucky’s hands are so close to his ass that it’s not even funny, and Steve sure as hell ain’t laughing; he’s too busy trying to keep his cool. _Wait a second, can Bucky feel my di— oh no,_ Steve thinks. Sam seems to sense his dilemma and only sends him a wink.

_Fuck fuck fuck,_ Steve groans internally. _Stay down. For the love of all that is holy, stay down dick. Please please please, stay down._

“Splash Mountain.”

“But… guys, it’s too cold for that.”

“It’s _never_ too cold for Splash Mountain,” Clint counters as they get in line. Due to the fact that it’s winter and Splash Mountain is a water ride, the line is relatively short. No matter how hard Steve tries to reason with Bucky that he can walk just fine, Bucky insists that it’s no trouble and carries him all the way through. With every step that Bucky takes, Steve is hyper aware of the feeling of Bucky’s body pressed up against his. This isn’t fair. Steve enjoys this but it just isn’t fair. This feels too nice, more comfortable than it should. Oh, the things Steve would give to feel this all the time. _Stop it, Rogers. This won’t be happening again and you know it_. Steve does, he truly knows that Bucky won’t want to hold him like this again, and that’s okay. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

Natasha and Maria join them just in time, running through the short line to reach them as they begin to board. Bucky sadly sets Steve down when they stand and wait for their ‘Log’ to approach, sending him a grin and stepping into the line for the front row seat. If only he knew how much Steve didn’t want to get down.

With a sigh and small shake of his head, Steve turns and eyes the Log that’s approaching skeptically, spotting all the water droplets that cover it like a blanket. So Clint wasn’t kidding, this really is a ride where you get _soaked_. When the gate opens, Steve takes a tentative step forward, careful not to slip as he steps inside. But the second he takes a seat, he nearly jumps.

“Shit! Fuck, that’s cold.” Steve exclaims uncomfortably, the feeling of icy water soaking the seat of his pants leaving him bothered. Bucky turns from his seat in front of him, his eyes narrowed in concern.

“What’dya do?”

“He sat in water.” Natasha answers for him from behind, patting Steve on the shoulder with a chuckle. “Get used to it Steven, you’re going to get really wet.”

“I’ll protect ya Stevie.” Bucky says with a smile, and Steve can’t help but grin back. _God, Bucky is such a dork and I love it. Love him_.

The Log jerks forward, signaling that the ride has started. They ease out of the boarding station, drifting down the makeshift stream slowly. Steve’s body is buzzing with nerves as he white-knuckles the handlebars beside him. He saw the massive drop at the end of the ride when they were walking by, it’s kind of hard to miss it. Just thinking about it makes him realize something: there aren’t any seat belts. 

“Guys, guys hold on a second. Where are the seat belts??”

“There aren’t any.”

“Well _no shit,_ Bucky. Is this thing even safe?”

Bucky chuckles quietly, tipping his head back to look at Steve upside down. “No, of course not. I brought you on this ride so we would all fall to our deaths. How clever of you, Steve; you figured out my master plan to murder you all.”

Steve glares at Bucky, narrowing his eyes even though a small smirk grows on his lips. With Bucky distracted, his friend doesn’t see the first small drop of the ride approaching rapidly. To say that Bucky yells in fright when it happens would be an understatement. No, his friend screams bloody murder. Steve bends over in laughter when they reach the bottom, his forehead resting on the back of Bucky’s seat and his hands clenching his torso.

It’s Bucky’s turn to glare at him now. Wiping the specks of water from his face, Bucky eyes Steve hard. “Shut up. It ain’t funny.”

“It’s fucking hilarious, actually.”

They stare at each other, slowly leaning forward as both their eyes narrow. They get so close that they almost bump noses, but Steve isn’t budging. _Holy shit, Bucky has such nice eyes. They look so beautiful up close_. After a few seconds, Bucky makes a small sound and they burst out laughing. They are both such dorks, goddammit.

The rest of the ride goes off without a hitch. Steve will shyly admit that he sang along with the ‘Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah’ theme song that played on the ride with Natasha, only to be taken over by Sam and Maria who were belting out the words from their seats at the back of the Log. The Log  glides into the inside of the mountain, and everything becomes encased in black. Steve blinks, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness. He is appeased though, when they float through an artificially lit cavern, full of detailed animatronics of foxes, bears, rabbits, and every type of woodland creature Steve can think of at the moment. With some motivation, they all pick up the song again, singing completely out of tune and enjoying themselves to the fullest. Everything is going swell.

Until the final drop comes.

Steve’s heart rate picks up and he stops singing, his hands going back to white-knuckling the handle bars. With the Log beginning to creep the last and final slope, he takes deep breaths to calm himself down. _It’s just a ride. Calm down it’s just— hang on, what if we die? I never told Bucky that I…_

Well it’s too late for that, because they’ve already reached the top.

“Shit, oh shit oh shit.” Steve mutters as the sunlight hits him. From the top of the steep drop, he can see nearly half of Disneyland. Without a second thought, his hand reaches forward and grips Bucky’s shoulder protectively. It’s pure instinct.

“It’s gonna be okay, Steve.” Bucky’s hand rests atop his reassuringly. “I promise ya.”

That’s the last thing he registers before they plunge down into a watery abyss.

Water soaks his shoes when they reach the bottom, leaving his feet rather uncomfortable. But other than that, he’s relatively… dry. Steve laughs in delight as the water splashes around him, slushing freely underneath the Log and avoiding him like the plague. He _survived_. Ha ha!

“Oh. My. Fuck.” Bucky curses, causing Steve to look at his friend. Uh oh… now he knows why he is barely wet. Bucky took all the water that was supposed to hit him, and everyone else. There is not one dry spot on Bucky at all; he’s completely soaked to the bone.

“I am _never_ sitting in the front _ever_ again.” Bucky shakes the water from his hair, using his hands to brush the brown locks out of his face. Steve can feel the vibrations of Bucky’s leg as it bounces against the floor of the Log. His friend is clearly uncomfortable.

They get back to the boarding dock in record time, where other park goers eagerly wait to experience the ride for themselves. They all carefully disembark, and Steve tries not to fall over with laughter when he watches Bucky walk. It’s like… watching a delusional, drunk baby deer try to crab walk, and fail miserably. Bucky can’t even put his legs together when he takes a single step. He has to waddle. Steve manages to get a video of his friend’s attempted strut for blackmail, and also because it’s just too funny to _not_ video tape.

It takes them a solid five minutes to make it to the exit, and Steve even helps Bucky balance on the way. Bucky attempts to do it on his own, claiming that he doesn’t need any help, but a stern look from Steve shuts him up just as quick. Once outside, Bucky finds the nearest bench and plops down, groaning at the feeling of sitting on his soaked jeans.

“I can’t— I need to— ah, fucking hell.” Bucky grunts and unzips his jacket, which Steve quickly collects and begins to ring out the water. He skillfully twists his wrists, watching with smug pride as all the tiny droplets fall to the ground. By the time he’s done, the jacket still a little damp and unable to be worn at the moment, but it’s much better than it was a few seconds ago.

Steve turns around with a smile, happy with his work. Lifting his head up to speak, the words catch in his throat as his eyes fall on Bucky. The brunet is finishing the task of pulling off his shirt, revealing each glistening muscle that litters his torso and chest. Steve swallows hard as he takes in the sight. Just looking at it makes him want to get closer, like he was this morning. Pressed up against Bucky, close and warm and— _Stop it, Steve._

“Yo, Stevie.” Bucky calls. “My eyes are up here, babe.”

Steve’s eyes snap up to meet Bucky’s, his face engulfing in flames at the fact that he was just caught ogling his friend’s bare chest. Coughing uncomfortably, Steve looks down and slowly walks over to Bucky. He stands there like a statue, looking around and avoiding Bucky’s gaze. Bucky probably thinks that he’s some kind of pervert, which he’s _not._ However, it’s hard not to look at such an amazing sight. But when he feels the familiar touch of Bucky’s rough, calloused hand wrapping around his wrist, Steve shoots his gaze back to Bucky.

“I ain’t _mad_ Stevie. I mean, you’re… I told ya earlier, you’re _allowed_ to look— _oof_!” A red shirt flies into view from out of nowhere, smacking Bucky in the face and cutting off the rest of his statement. It’s new, Steve notices. The small picture of a honey pot and Piglet on the shoulder is a telling sign that one of his friends recently purchased the shirt for Bucky.

“Put on the shirt, Barnes. People are startin’ to stare.” Clint speaks up, and it becomes clear that he was the one to throw the shirt. _Good,_ Steve thinks. _There’s no way Bucky meant what he said._

“Thank Clint.” Bucky smiles, pulling the price tag from the shirt and opening up the fabric to pull it over his head. “But, so? They can look all they want. Don’t matter anyways, there’s only one person I’ve got my eyes on. Everyone else doesn’t matter.”

Time seems to stop for Steve. The world stops spinning, people stop talking, birds stop singing. The only thing that moves is Steve’s heart, when it cracks in two. It’s a hard slap in the face that he really should have seen coming. Of _course_ Bucky found someone. Of fucking _course_ . His vision loses focus as Bucky’s words slowly chip away at the tendrils that hold Steve’s heart together. _‘There’s only one person I’ve got my eyes on. Everyone else doesn’t matter’._ Steve hears that perfectly clear, yet his ears translate it to: _‘I love someone and it sure as hell isn’t Steve Rogers. He doesn’t matter’._ But can Steve really expect any different? It’s a knife in the heart, a punch to the chest, a hard realization that he is _nothing_ . Absolutely _nothing._ He will never be anything that is worth a smidgen Bucky’s love.

Steve thinks he makes some excuse to depart, ignoring the calls from his friends as he walks away in search of the nearest bathroom. He’s not going to be seen crying in public, he’s _not._

___________________________________________________________

 

Steve doesn’t speak up for the rest of the day, giving everyone small, one-word answers or curt nods. He just doesn’t feel like talking at all, because what’s the point? With a voice that will probably crack the second he opens his mouth and a sob stuck in his throat, there is no reason to say anything. His emotions will take over, and that’s the last thing he needs.

One thing that Steve notices with all that is going on, is that Bucky keeps trying to make eye contact. Whether it’s turning his head to look at him or literally taking Steve’s face in his hands and turning him so that they are face-to-face, he tries everything to get Steve to look at him. But Steve isn’t going to let him, no way. Bucky can’t know what he’s feeling, he _can’t_ , or else it’ll give everything away. It’ll give away every feeling and impulse Steve has been feeling since he first figured out what _‘love’_ meant _._ Each time Bucky tries desperately for Steve to look at him, he turns his head the other way to distract himself from Bucky’s worried eyes. He just… he… he doesn’t need to drag Bucky into this. It’s _not his fault_ that he found someone, not at all. If anything, Steve is trying to feel happy that Bucky has finally found _the one_ , but his strenuous efforts only leave him feeling emotionally drained in the end.

He… he wanted it to be _him, Steve_. He wanted to be Bucky’s forever, as cheesy as that sounds. He wanted to be the one that Bucky kissed every morning and night. He wanted to be _Bucky’s._ He wanted— no, _wants_ — he _wants_ to be Bucky’s special someone. But… he’s not. It’s not Steve and _it’s not fucking fair._ _Why can’t I be good enough? Why doesn’t Bucky love me? Why am I the way I am? Why does the world fucking hate me? No, why does GOD hate me? Why did He make my existence a joke? Why can’t I be the person Bucky needs me to be?_

Steve remembers something his therapist said, about how he needs to learn to love himself more and be more accepting of the person he is. But it’s _too fucking hard_ . He’s trying, he really is, but it’s so hard to do when no one else loves you either. With all the questions that fly through his mind, only one prominently stands out: _Why doesn’t Bucky love me?_

___________________________________________________________

 

The end of the day passes by with a blur. He’s everywhere and nowhere all at once. Retaining anything at the moment sounds like a joke. Steve is so lost that he doesn’t even realize that he’s back in the hotel room until Bucky taps his shoulder. He can’t help the flinch he emits, nor the shiver that runs down his spine.

“You wanna take the bathroom first?” Bucky asks softly, and Steve wants to cry at the sound of Bucky’s concerned undertones. What he does instead is nod shallowly and step away, walking quietly to the bathroom. _Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around._ _Don’t turn around._ Stepping inside, he locks the door and sinks down to the floor, his butt hitting the tile roughly. He doesn’t move for a few minutes, opting to look at the walls around him. At least here, he can be safe from Bucky’s beautiful eyes. Bucky’s charming smile. Bucky’s gorgeous laughter. Bucky’s caring heart. His… Bucky. It’s his Bucky, but he’s just not Bucky’s Steve.

Somehow beyond his mental thought processes, he manages to strip out of his clothes, carefully avoiding the angry bruise that still lines his lower stomach. Knowing him, it’s probably going to be there for a good two weeks or more. The shower spray welcomes Steve with open arms, cradling him gently in a safe, warm embrace. But it doesn’t feel right. No matter how much heart ache Bucky unknowingly gives him, Steve feels safest when he’s with his best friend. Oh lord, the fucking irony. He feels safest in the arms of the one who breaks his heart… funny how the world works.

Between the soap suds and steamy water, Steve finds that he still has tears to shed. They slip down his cheeks slowly, some falling and some washed away. Some stay caught in his eyes, blurring his vision from reality. A quiet reminder of the pain that stays trapped inside his body. But when those tears start to fall, others take their place, until he’s leaning against the wall of the shower and crying silently. _Why can’t I be good enough? Why… why can’t I love myself?_

Why… why is the world against him? What did he do that granted him this punishment of unrequited love?

Steve shakes his head, more tears falling down his cheeks as he rinses off the soap and switches off the water. Grabbing a towel quickly, he brings it to his face, muffling any sound that could alert Bucky of his current state. As he dries off every stray droplet of sorrow, he wipes himself clean of his pain. For now. He’s tired, mentally and physically, and he just wants a goddamned _hug_.

Sighing, he reaches for his pajamas, only to find that they aren’t there. Shit, that can only mean one thing: they’re still in his drawer, which is outside the bathroom, where _Bucky_ is.

“H-hey, Buck?” Steve shout-whispers, opening the door a crack.

“Yeah, Stevie?” Bucky shout-whispers back. Oh thank god he’s still awake.

“Can you do me a favour?”

“Sure.”

“Can you grab my pajamas for me?”

“Yeah.” Bucky responds, opening a drawer of the dresser and pulling out Steve’s giant shirt. “Hey Stevie?”

“Yeah?”

“Why’re we whisperin’?”

“... I don’t know.”

Bucky chuckles breathlessly and strides over to the bathroom. He doesn’t come too close to the door, which Steve is thankful for. The last thing he needs is for Bucky to see his red-rimmed eyes. Reaching out, he collects his clothing and thanks Bucky, before closing the door once more. Setting the towel aside, Steve slips the shirt over his head and steps into his boxers. Checking over himself with a hard eye, he hangs up his towel and steps out of the bathroom, heading straight for his bed.

“Bathroom’s all yours, Buck.” Steve mutters, opening his bed and crawling underneath the sheets.

“Ehh, I’ll shower in the morning.” Bucky rummages through the dresser drawers, looking for his pajamas. Taking a quick detour to the bathroom, Bucky comes back out in sweats and no shirt. Once again. It’s not that Steve doesn’t enjoy seeing his friend in this state, it’s only that he knows it’s wrong to ogle. Friends don’t lovingly look at friends the way Steve looks at Bucky, it’s not done.

“You’re gross.” Steve mumbles against the mattress, turning to watch Bucky crawl into the bed across from him.

Bucky laughs, throwing a pillow at his head once he settles under his sheets. Steve catches it expertly, curling up against it like a cat. “Ha ha, it’s mine now.”

With a soft chuckle, Bucky sends him a small smile before shutting off the light, bidding Steve a quiet _‘good night’_. Steve repeats the sentiment back, curling deeper into the pillow that he now is holding against his chest. Bucky’s pillow. Sleep steadily overtakes him, with the help of his currently drained state. His eyes droop unceremoniously, darkening his sight even more and sending him into a hazy mode.

_Click-click-click._

What the heck?

_Click-click-click._

The sound continues non-stop, never ceasing nor changing pattern. _Click-click-click._

That’s when he realizes that it’s coming from across the room, near Bucky. No, wait. Not just near Bucky, but it’s coming _from_ Bucky. Straining to hear the noise better, Steve quickly registers the sound of teeth chattering and understands that Bucky must be freezing cold. Most likely he’s still suffering from the water ride earlier.

“Bucky?”

There’s a small pause. “Y-yeah?”

“Are… are you alright?”

“Y-yeah, I’m f-fine. Just a lil’ c-cold.”

Steve throws off the covers in a instant, running over to the thermostat in the dark and cranking up the heat. He smiles with pride at Bucky’s sigh of relief when the warm air begins to pour into the tiny room. Carefully making his way back to his bed, he sneaks back into his cocoon of blankets and snuggles into the pillows.

“Thanks, Stevie.”

Steve hums back quietly in response and the room goes quiet again. But Steve’s heart and mind are wide awake, and they make him notice how lonely he is. It felt spectacular waking up to Bucky this morning, and he’d give anything to feel it again.

“Hey Buck? Would you… I mean, are you…?”

“Lonely?” Bucky supplies.

“Lon— well… yeah. Would you, uh, want to—”

“Fuck yes.”

Steve hears Bucky shuffle on his bed, walk over to him, and plop down on Steve’s mattress. Steve tries yet fails to suppress the giggle that escapes him when Bucky pulls him across the bed and into his embrace. Bucky’s arm wraps around his midsection tightly, and all of Steve’s worries fly away.

“Ah, that’s better.” Bucky mutters, his hot breath hitting the back of Steve’s neck and making him shiver.

“You’re a dork.”

“And you’re a punk…”

Even though Steve is on the precipice of sleep, he _swears_ that he hears Bucky whisper _‘... and you’re_ my _punk’._ But he will never know for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go ahead. Y'all are allowed to have an uproar in the comments. I really want to know what you guys thought about this :)
> 
> And a huge thank you to my beautiful friend [LightningStriking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightningStriking/pseuds/LightningStriking) who gave me some wonderful inspiration for this chapter and for future chapters as well :)
> 
> As per usual, here are some references:
> 
>  
> 
> This is a great shot of BOTH Winnie-The-Pooh AND Splash Mountain. In this picture, the Splash Mountain entrance can be seen on the right, and the exit for Winnie-The-Pooh can be seen on the left.
> 
>  
> 
> Here is a picture of the sign that hangs over the entrance of Winnie-The-Pooh
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> And there's Splash Mountain! With that giant drop! (trust me, depending on where you're sitting, you either walk out completely dry or soaking wet. There is no in-between. The front seat has a fifty-fifty chance. Ride with caution XD)
> 
> *squealing* LOOK AT THAT DELICIOUSNESS :D
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed that chapter, and again, I am truly sorry for taking so long to update.

**Author's Note:**

> Be sure to leave a comment/kudos if ya liked it!  
> See you next time, my lovelies!


End file.
